


From Master to Monster

by LazarusII, Pandora151



Series: Ascension [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Ahsoka Tano Needs a Hug, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Complete Episode Rewrite, Dark Anakin Skywalker, Episode: s03e17 Ghosts of Mortis, Episode: s03e18 The Citadel, Feat. Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, Fix-It of Sorts, Mortis (Star Wars), Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Mess, Obi-Wan Needs a Hug, Poor Obi-Wan, Protective Ahsoka Tano, Sith, Torture, Will keep updating Tags
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2019-09-04 21:59:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 78,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16797850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazarusII/pseuds/LazarusII, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandora151/pseuds/Pandora151
Summary: After Anakin Skywalker falls to the Dark Side on Mortis, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka must take comfort in one another as the galaxy becomes a far more dangerous place.(Spoilers for Clone Wars, selected prequel novels, and movies)Next Chapter Expected Around/close to:9/7/19





	1. Chapter 1 [Part 1] - Mortis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole fic is filled with angst and various triggers, so please go in mentally prepared! 
> 
> A special thank you to [Aliza1702](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aliza1702/profile) for making this work readable! (I don't know what I'd do without you.)
> 
> Chapters 1-6 were written by myself (LazarusII), so you will notice a slight variation in writing style when the amazing, [Pandora151](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandora151/pseuds/Pandora151) joined this project. For those chapters in particular, I promise that the writing improves -good lord I was a hot mess when I started this work. 
> 
> ###### AND NOW A NOTICE CONCERNING THE READING OF CHAPTERS 1-6
> 
> As of:    
>  2/27/19   
>    
>    
>  _Chapters: 1,2, 3, and 4 have seen edits that are posted with more minor changes on the way._ *cheers* you can also expect Chapters 5-6 to receive similar updates over the upcoming months (I know, it's taking a while). ~LazarusII   
> 

Obi-Wan had just enough time to raise a hand before the Son’s Sith lightning threw him to the ground, writhing in pain. It felt as though every nerve in his body had been lit on fire and melted. Instinctively, he reached out to Anakin through their bond but only found crushing darkness. It was as though a void had opened up where his connection to his former apprentice had been—a gaping maw that could not be crossed. His heart sank as he frantically fought to paddle through the dark quagmire of his own mind.

Nothing.

In the Force, there was no sign that Anakin Skywalker had ever been his padawan. There wasn’t even a single hint that the bond had even existed. 

_No! Get up, Kenobi. Move. You have to get to him before he gets to Ahsoka!_

But he could not move. His heart pounding in his temple, Obi-Wan barely managed to bite down on his lip to stop from screaming. The bitter taste of iron entered his mouth, but the fact that he'd cut through his own skin didn't compute, and he only clamped down harder as the pain grew.

Through their fragile bond, he could feel Ahsoka screaming for him.

_For Force’s sake, no. She doesn't need to suffer, too—_

“You could have done so much for me, Jedi,” the Son whispered, voice rattling inside Obi-Wan’s head. "So much potential… but you are no comparison to the Chosen One.”

The red lightning died away, but Obi-Wan barely felt it. It was as though pins and needles were entering every pore in his skin, digging deep into his flesh and bone. Breathing uneven and labored, he leaned his head back onto the dark stone. Blood seeping down his throat, he coughed weakly, gasping for air. A shadow fell over him, and glowing red eyes crinkled as a terrible sound filled the air.

Obi-Wan realized that the Force-wielder was laughing. _Laughing_. And Anakin just stood there, off to the side, watching with that dark expression and corrupted yellow eyes. Obi-Wan struggled to roll onto all fours, clutching his midsection feebly as spasms wracked his tired limbs.

“Anakin…” he choked, “why?”

A strand of hair fell into his eyes, blocking his view of the Son. He would have pushed it back, making sure that he could at least see, but right now there was barely enough energy left in him to keep breathing, let alone move. Even then, it was far from pleasant, almost like breathing acid...

 _“Master!”_ Ahsoka called desperately to him through the Force, her voice frantic, _“What’s happening! Can you hear me? Please, oh Force, please respond!”_

“Hmm, it seems that the apprentice still calls to you,” the Son mused, eyes glittering. He turned to Anakin, whose expression visibly grew more conflicted. "Now how can we fix that?"

_Karking hells, no!_

Obi-Wan threw all of his remaining energy into the Force. Ahsoka had to know how much danger she was in. His feeble attempt met a wall of darkness, almost as deep and dark as the hole where his bond with Anakin was supposed to be located.

It was as though he were a caged animal, pounding against welded iron bars. There was no way that he was getting through to her now. He had lost and she was likely in for a similar fate unless...

“Anakin—don’t hurt Ahsoka. She's your apprentice— _Anakin_!” His voice was tight and raw as he essentially yelled at his former Padawan. "She needs you right now! You can't leave her! Ana—" He choked on his own words, blood seeping over his torn lips as he coughed roughly. He nearly gagged on the overwhelming taste of iron.

The Son hummed softly—whether in pity, humor, or mirth, Obi-Wan couldn't decide.

Anakin turned his head away so that Obi-Wan could no longer see his face. It was something that he'd done as a padawan but only when he'd done something wrong. That was Anakin's guilty face. He knew he had done something; that much was clear. Either that, or despite his turn the Dark Side, he still had a bit of consciousness left.

The Son's bright red eyes were still focused on Obi-Wan's face, laser-like in appearance and intensity, glowing with savage pleasure.

“Now, _Jedi_ , we are leaving this place and there is nothing you can do to stop us.” The tall Force-wielder paused. “Right now, even _Father_ cannot stop us.”

The electricity slammed into him like a freight train, sending Obi-Wan sprawling backward. While he managed to stay silent earlier, a terrible scream ripped from him this time, quickly shredding his already-worn throat. The world was a hurricane of spinning red light, a maelstrom of agony, and he could feel himself thrashing on the ground. 

“We _will_ be free!” Hissed the Son’s voice, impossibly loud in Obi-Wan’s ears.

Silently, he begged for all of it to end.

_Please, stop!_

_Please, end this!_

_Please—_

Slowly, he sank into darkness and the mercy of its deep embrace.

||

Ahsoka caught herself dozing off once more in the midst of repairs. From what Skyguy and Master Kenobi had said—and from what she’d put together—she had literally died and then come back to life. If only she could remember what had happened after being bitten by that twisted creature in the cell…

Or had it been a creature at all? She guessed that it most likely was the Son.

Upon waking up, she had been given just enough time to pull herself back up into a seat in the cockpit before the Force exploded. Pain shot through her mind, and she nearly toppled out of the chair, gripping the seat in front of her for support. With one hand pressed to her temple, she closed her eyes and let out a shaky breath, heart hammering inside her chest.

The Dark Side was _everywhere_ , filling her senses and shrouding everything around her in a thick fog. Never had she felt the Dark Side so powerful, so potent. It was like a thick goo sliding over the Light Side of the Force, oozing and leaving trails all over. It felt worse than disgusting; it was more revolting and horrific. In her mind's eye, she pictured a writing, terrible monster rising from a pit of black tar, its dark claws reaching towards her.

Shards of terror leaped into her throat, constricting it until she could hardly breathe.

 _Anakin, where are you?_ she pleaded through the Force, reaching out through their bond. Someone was in pain, imprisoned within the beast, tortured and ensnared past any hope of escape… someone… Ahsoka instantly recoiled as she felt a dark void.

_Our bond is… gone? But how?_

Where a calming, reassuring presence had once rested in her mind was a whirlpool of nothingness. Anakin had just vanished without a trace, and no matter how hard she tried to reach him, she was met with the same empty void. Breathing rapidly, she felt panic fluttering in her stomach.

_So much pain...But if it's not Anakin..._

“Master Kenobi!” she whispered, horrified. 

Carefully, she reached into the bond she shared with her Grandmaster, hoping for an answer. She got a garbled response, incoherent and filled with agony. He was trying to tell her something, repeating it over and over. Eventually, she caught _“Ana… don’t hurt...”_ She tried to send him healing energy, bundling as much as she could from herself and pushing it through the Force, but she found their link so heavily shrouded by the Dark Side that there was no possible way for it to go through.

“Master, are you okay? Master, can you please tell me what’s going on? Let me help you! Oh, Force, please respond!” she cried, trembling slightly.

She pictured her Grandmaster. He was calm and reserved, yet kind and welcoming—heroic, yet humble. Despite Anakin's initial hesitation to take her on as an apprentice, Obi-Wan had always been there, helping her from the very beginning. Though she hadn't really voiced it, she'd looked up to him even before her apprenticeship as his name and heroic deeds became legend in the Jedi Temple.

But that had been in the past; now, he was more like a father. Lineages were never really that close, something that had been stressed during her early training days. Kriff, even Masters Windu and Yoda had said that. And yet, years after her wide-eyed youngling days, she now had a 'training' bond with one of the Masters of the High Council and was apprenticed to the legendary Anakin Skywalker—who she was closer to than what was considered the 'Jedi norm.' 

As if Obi-Wan’s tormentor had sensed her presence, the pain doubled in intensity, forcing Ahsoka to the ground, hands clutching her head. A ragged gasp left her lips and tears leaked from her eyes. Ghostly echoes of a scream met her ears.

_Obi-Wan is in so much pain and there’s not a kriffing thing I can do about it._

After a few seconds, the sensation died away alarmingly fast and nearly without a trace. Uncurling from where she had been balled up on the floor, she wiped her eyes and sat up, looking around in confusion. Her brain was numb and slow, like in the first few seconds of waking up from a long sleep.

_Right, I’m on the ship. I’m on Mortis._

She slapped her face lightly with both hands. As expected, it didn't do much.

Tentatively, she reached out into the Force again. This time, there was total darkness outside of her mental walls. Both of her bonds, both cherished connections to people who she cared about dearly, were empty and as dark as the planet itself.

“Oh, no, please no.” A sob built its way up into her throat and it nearly overcame her before she managed to stuff it back down.

_Are they dead? Where is Anakin? Is Master Kenobi …alive?_

She stood up shakily and slowly activated Anakin’s channel.

“Hello?” She spoke softly, her voice oddly quiet, “Master?”

There was no reply. Hands shaking, she changed channels and tried Obi-Wan. Still nothing, but she hadn't expected a response from him.

“Oh.” She let out a long sigh and closed her eyes.

_Breathe, Ahsoka._

_Breathe._

The ball of stress in the pit of her stomach lessened by an infinitesimal amount. She shook out her hands and began to fiddle with her lightsaber in a very un-Jedi-like way. Something bad happened to Obi-Wan, she was sure of it. More than anything, she wanted her Master to come back. Just seeing him would be a reassurance. He’d probably say that everything was going to be alright…

Seemingly out of nowhere, the hum of a speeder filled the air, and great wave of relief washed through Ahsoka. She nearly cried out in relief and raced down the ramp, out into cool night air. It definitely was her Master, his dark-robed form hunched over the controls of the land speeder. She shifted from foot to foot urgently, suddenly feeling impatient to talk with him. She had _so_ many unanswered questions. Where was Master Kenobi? What happened? Why was he alone? What _was_ all the pain?

The questions seemed to burst from her mind, nearly forming on her lips by the time Anakin had climbed the closest hill and come into full view.

_Why is our bond broken? Why does he suddenly feel… dark?_

A thread of doubt crossed through her mind, and uneasiness washed through her. The feeling grew like a plague, growing with every second that her Master drew closer. The Force had started to whisper warnings in her mind.

Her Master was alone, but Obi-Wan had gone to find him. Could Obi-Wan have failed? But he lit up the Force like a beacon, even she could’ve found Anakin...

The whispers in the Force grew stronger, and she took several steps back, her heel scraping against the metal ramp of the ship. Every nerve in her body desperately wanted everything to be fine, for her Master to just have missed Obi-Wan, and that he was fine and well... But that would be too good to be true, wouldn't it?

_It's going to be fine, it'll all be fine, just fine..._

The moment her Master came into full view, she knew that things were far from alright. Despite the dark haze that filled the Force, she was beginning to pick up a focal point for all of that dark power. Anakin reeked of anger and despair, radiating it so powerfully that it almost blew her off of her feet. He was the dark monster in her mind's eye. Suddenly she had a very good idea as to what had happened to Obi-Wan, and she desperately hoped that she was wrong.

_Oh, no._

_No..._

_He’s…dark, all dark. Why? How? When?_

_Where’s Master Kenobi? Oh, Force—_

“I cannot let my Son leave this planet.” The Father’s words from before came to her, and, hating every fiber in her body for it, Ahsoka knew what she had to do.

In one fluid motion, she spun and sprinted into the cabin. She probably had a minute before he got to the ship. One minute, quite possibly, to save them all. With the Force, she viciously ripped the ignition switch from the board right above the pilot’s seat. Catching it, she rushed back outside with just barely any time to spare.

Holding the switch tightly behind her, she edged around the ship and began to back away from the approaching speeder, fear gnawing at her insides.

If her Master had seemed powerful before, it was nothing to the raw energy that he exuded now. Waves of dark energy radiated outwards from his form, almost dizzying in power—frightening, to be sure. Climbing from the seat of the speeder, he cast his yellow Sith-eyes down upon her.

“Ahsoka, I’m sorry, but you don’t understand what I have to do,” he said, voice echoing in her mind.

Now there were fifteen yards between them, but she kept backing up, away from him.

A knot formed in her throat, and her voice hitched as she struggled to speak. “W-what are you? Master? Why?”

Hardness entered Anakin’s face as he balled his hands into fists. “What does it matter?” he growled venomously. “I’ve become what I need to be to end the war, to save everyone. As I said, you wouldn’t understand. And neither did Obi-Wan.”

It was like a rock had landed in the pit of Ahsoka’s stomach. “What did you do to him?” She cried, taking a step forward for the first time, “what did you _do_?”

Anakin threw her a half-smirk. “Me? I didn’t do anything.”

Ahsoka backed up another few steps. She didn’t recognize this monster. It wasn’t his appearance or mannerisms as much as it was his presence in the Force. He was cold, icy cold, with a slightly feral hint to him. It was terrifying, the kind of terror that made her blood turn to ice and her limbs stiffen. She had never felt a presence like this before, not even in the coldness of the Son.

_I have to find Obi-Wan. I have to get out of here._

She stumbled a bit over some loose rock and accidentally thrust out her right hand out to stabilize herself. Belatedly, she realized that it was the same hand which gripped the ignition switch.

_Kriff, I just blew it. I just may have ended the world. Dear Force…_

“Ahsoka.” His voice was calm and deadly when he next spoke, his terrible yellow eyes boring into her like lasers. “What did you do?”

She couldn’t hold down the tears; she couldn’t.

“I-I’m sorry, Master.”

With a loud, gasping sob, she spun on her heel and took off across the rocky terrain, tapping into every reserve of the Force that she could, willing her legs to carry her as far away from the monster who Anakin Skywalker had become.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, constructive criticism and all comments/kudos are welcome. Thank you for reading! :3


	2. Chapter 2

“How could you betray me?”

A string of foul Huttese curses echoed from behind her as she tore through the rocky terrain, heading straight for the distant mountains. Tears rolled down her face, blurring her vision and nearly causing her to trip. Blood roared in her ears.

Anakin was like Dooku and Grievous now. Cold and dark. He felt like a dark pit of roiling emotion in the Force. It was as to no wonder why their bond had been broken—more like shattered.

_ But why didn’t I feel it?  _

A bond breaking, she was told, usually had a sort of ‘psychic backlash’. Even with death, the bond would still resonate briefly before it was severed. It was said to pass on hints of the other’s emotional state prior to closure. 

But that was what made things so much stranger for Ahsoka. If she guessed correctly, she had been asleep while her Master had turned—a state where the mind was at its most vulnerable—and not felt a single kriffing thing. To her, everything had felt normal up until her Grandmaster had lit up the Force with pain, a fact which was somewhat of a mystery of itself. Her bonds with her Masters had only increased in strength from the moment that they'd stepped on the planet. By all means, she should have felt at least  _ something _ .

Then a thought occurred to her. Had Anakin felt  _ her _ turn? He hadn’t mentioned it at all. The Son had done it with some sort of poison, according to Obi-Wan, and it made sense when she thought of it. She wouldn't have willingly turned to the Dark Side, neither would Anakin.

The Son. It  _ has _ to be the Son.

Ahsoka set her jaw and narrowed her eyes, determination rising within her. They would have to get the ignition switch from her dead body; there was no way in hell she was giving it up without a fight. She couldn’t let the Son leave this place. He would bring death and destruction with him to the galaxy, that was for sure. And Anakin … The determination shattered as an icy dagger worked its way into her heart.

It felt like she was being torn in half.

“Ahsoka, wait!” Anakin’s voice broke through the air, sounding just as desperate as she was. “Wait!”

She threw a look over her shoulder and saw him, sprinting to her right, paralleling her with apparent ease. A muddied brown mess seemed to revolve around him in the Force, recognizable even without her having to look. This made it even crazier—the fact that he sounded so normal ... But then he’d look at her with those yellow Sith eyes, and Ahsoka knew that she was no longer looking at the face of a Jedi. In all her years as a padawan, she’d only been in the presence of Count Dooku once, and he hadn’t even given her the chills that her Master did now. And Dooku was a Sith, a known killer.

“Wait!” His voice was raw, as though he had been screaming his lungs out not long ago.

“ _ What did he do to you _ ?” she cried out between breaths.

Anakin’s voice was level when he replied. “He showed me the truth and what I will have to do to save everyone.”

Ahsoka was quickly running out of energy. It was as though the very air sapped her strength, depleting the already shrinking store of energy left over from her resurrection. Every bone ached, and a part of her feared that the next step would be her last. But through that fatigue, she continued to sprint on, clinging to the light inside of her with a vice and refusing to let go. 

The longer she ran, however, the dimmer that light became. During a particularly difficult and dangerous mission, her Master had taught her to never let that light go out and that she could get lost without it. Well, now she was on a very dangerous mission of a different sort and that light was rapidly going out.

Just a matter of hours ago, she had awoken from what had felt like a deep trance, swimming back into consciousness only to find herself in the arms of her Master. He had embraced her, wrapping his arms around her as friends do after a long time apart, well most non-Jedi friends at any rate. Love and a desperate relief had resounded from him, a feeling surprisingly reflected from Obi-Wan, mixed with a sense of awe.

Only later did she realize that she had returned from the dead and that many things had changed in the brief hours of darkness.

Fresh tears welled into her eyes, despite all efforts to clamp down on the emotions. A tendril of thought brushed against her.

“Ahsoka. Why are you running from me?”

She shivered. It was Anakin’s voice in her head, there was no doubting that, but the presence was just as she had expected it to be: a sly shadow that had been camouflaged in the background, hiding away in the Force, like a hunter stalking its prey. Her mental shields slammed down and she withdrew into the Force even further. As though burned, Anakin snapped back. Ahsoka didn’t need to have a bond to feel the hurt and frustration her Master was feeling—he projected it like a beacon.

“Dammit, Ahsoka!” Growling, he leaped forward, using a nearby rockpile as a springboard and flinging himself right into her path.

Skidding to a halt, Ahsoka watched him move towards her, his yellow eyes looking at her with the same wary expression he usually reserved for some cornered animal, his hand stretched forwards in a soothing gesture.

“Snips, you have to listen to me. The Jedi are not the guardians of peace that they say they are. They stand in the way to peace and must be destroyed. My Master will make sure of it.”

“Obi-Wan isn’t—”

Anakin snarled at her grandmaster’s name, his mechanical hand clenching into a fist. “Obi-Wan has nothing to do with this. I will attend to him later. He cannot see it and he will try to stand in my way.” The Force writhed and boiled, reflecting his words.

_ He’s still alive. Oh thank—kriffing hells, I thought he was dead.  _ Her next thought was a silent plea that he was alright… but he couldn’t be alright, not after all that pain.

Ahsoka searched Anakin’s face, her brows furrowing. “Master, you’ve been teaching me to be a Jedi for almost two years now… why are you saying these things?”

“I saw the future, the war—Snips I saw  _ terrible _ things... the Son and I, we have to leave this planet. Ahsoka, we can save the galaxy,” Anakin said, gesturing wildly with his hands, “we could end the Clone War!” 

She watched him silently. A part of her wanted to go with him, to take his hand and leave the planet. Her heart yearned to see peace and tranquility in the galaxy. Images of the destroyed cities of Ryloth and the battle-scarred Christophsis ran through her mind. Was there really a way to end it all? Was there a possible solution to this entire conflict? Oh, how she wanted to see it.

Reality then hit her like a brick wall. She knew the answer. Of course, there wasn’t. While one man could bring an end to it, it would be incredibly difficult and the Dark Side wasn’t the right way. She swallowed thickly at the thought of the ramifications of a galaxy under Sith rule.

Jedi slaughtered, millions dead, living in the oppression of a cruel leader—that’s what it would be. That’s not peace, that’s not ‘solving’ the war. 

“He’s using you,” she looked at the ground, noting how Anakin had frozen in place. “He’s  _ using _ you.” She repeated it louder the second time, raising her eyes back to her Master.

“No.” Anakin’s voice was still cold in his reply, but Ahsoka thought she could catch a hint of hesitation in his reply. “He wants to bring peace to the galaxy. He showed me the future.”

Ahsoka, shocking herself with her own nerve, stepped forwards and balled her hands into fists, “you said he showed you the future. How do you know that it’s real?”

“I—” He brought a hand to his forehead.

“Master, I know you’re in there!” She was shouting now. “Please! The Son is lying, Master Obi-Wan isn’t ev—”

It was like someone had flipped a switch inside Anakin. “Obi-Wan Kenobi,” he snarled, “left me for dead; he is responsible—”

Ahsoka was surprised that she couldn’t see the physical power of the Dark Side that swirled about his body. His anger was blinding in the Force, and it drove her backwards as though she had been buffeted by a strong wind. Eyes wide, Ahsoka backed up, clutching the switch tightly in her left hand while her right inched towards her lightsaber.

Anakin jabbed a finger in her direction. “I will give you one more chance to join me, Ahsoka. Give me the switch, now.”

“Master, I—” She retreated another step, an action which proved to be a huge mistake. In one swift motion, Anakin was off the ground and flying at her, lightsaber raised.

She let loose a cry and barely managed to ignite her own blade in time to catch the blow. The sheer power of the swing sent shocks up and down her arm, knocking the lightsaber downwards with the recoil. As his saber came down again, she leaped backward, propelling herself with the Force and landing in a crouch several yards away. With only a split-second’s worth of rest, she clipped the switch to her belt and drew her shoto blade. Anakin was on her in seconds and it was all she could do to keep him from cutting her in half.

For Ahsoka, she knew that she’d lost the moment that the fight had started. She was the student and he was the Master, and that was just the beginning of her problems. Not only had he taught her many of the more advanced elements of her fighting form, but he had also practiced countless hours against her and she had never managed to beat him. Not even once. Sure, she’d come the closest after training with Obi-Wan and Master Plo for a week—surprising Anakin with a new fusion of Jar’Kai—but knocking him down in that fight had been like finding the needle in the haystack and then dropping it again. She had been proud of that fight, despite the fact that she’d still lost.

But fighting Anakin now was like fighting of the force of nature. Even as she leaped and gave ground, dodging and fighting for her life, it did absolutely nothing. Tired and weakened as she was, she still had speed and agility that he did not possess. It was something she used to her advantage. Plus, he wasn’t exactly aiming to kill—yet. She fought for time and those precious few moments of freedom. Her Master was going to win; it was only a matter of when.

Anakin let out a growl and set his mouth curled up into a feral sneer. “I trusted you, Ahsoka. All those years, I trained you to be the perfect apprentice. Come with me and we can reshape the galaxy together.”

“I can’t, Master; I—”

With a vicious strike, he drove his saber down over her left shoulder. She raised her blade, barely managing to hold the block as their lightsabers sputtered against one another, sending flashes of white light off to the side from where the two sabers met one another. Twisting, she spun out from under her Master, leaping to the side before landing in a defensive stance several yards later.

“Then you are no longer my apprentice.” He said coldly, “I see Obi-Wan has left a mark on you after all.”

_ Face it, Ahsoka, you were expecting this. You knew this was coming. _

Coming from Anakin in this state, the comment shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did. All the same, Ahsoka felt as though the air had been sucked out of her.

“I learned to resist—the Dark Side from my Master,” she replied, breathing hard.

And from Obi-Wan, who he suddenly hates all of a sudden…

With a savage cry, Anakin raised his lightsaber and laid down strike after strike, throwing out all sense of form or technique in favor of a series of brutal physical assaults. Whether they were considered ‘improper form’ or not, defending against them was damn near impossible. Each blow collided with her blade and shook her down to her toes. It was all she could do to keep her lightsabers in her hands and deflect. 

He was aiming for a saber lock, that much was obvious by now. Her Master kept leaving open windows in his defense which, should Ahsoka take one and go on the offensive, would mean playing right into his trap. It would be over once he did because that was his style. She’d seen him fight enough times to know that he always tried to get into a position to use the Force—and this was no exception.

The saber lock came several moments later, and Ahsoka was reminded of how utterly screwed she was. Even as she watched, her shoto blade slipped sideways under the intense pressure and clattered to the ground. Suddenly holding all of the weight, her right arm dipped inwards and she clasped the remaining saber with both hands in order to prevent the green blade from burying itself in her skull. 

They stood there frozen for nearly a minute, as though time itself had stopped.

Then Anakin had her locked in the force, faster than her tired eyes could process. Ahsoka had only seen two of his fingers clench inwards before as an invisible noose wrapped itself about her neck. Taken by surprise, her hands immediately jumped to her throat; her blade deactivated as she attempted to remove the invisible fingers. Her breaths came in quick gasps, shallow, and far too light for the kind of physical exertion which she had been through. A dark haze appeared around the edges of her vision and it soon looked as though she were viewing the world through an old keyhole.

_ This is the end _ , she thought miserably.

A soft tug at her belt told her that he had taken the switch. The disappointment and frustration of failure boiled in her stomach as she hung there, choking. Distantly, she heard a soft exclamation of relief from her Master as he obtained the equipment before she blacked out.

||

Ahsoka awoke to the sound of screaming in the back of her mind. Someone, no, many 'someones' were in intense pain.

Her voice didn't work, and she couldn't move. Horror and unbridled panic threw her mind into a manic frenzy. As her eyes flew open, she was greeted by the dark stone of the planet, moving along slowly below her. One, maybe two, paces in front of her, Anakin's silhouette marched forwards, one hand extended back. The Dark Side had its talons wrapped about her body, freezing her in place as she floated along behind her Master.

_ Oh, right. I'm here and he's _ —

He's floating me behind him, I'm upside-down and frozen in the Force—don't worry, Ahsoka—don't worry—

Closing her eyes and breathing as deeply as she could, Ahsoka fought to calm herself down. It took a minute, but eventually, her heart rate went down to something manageable. Without full-on meditation, there was only so much a person could do. So, instead of herself, she focused on her surroundings.

Listening to the screaming, she could hear men, women, and children alike, all crying out in pain and fear. Withdrawing within her battered mental shields was all she could do not to join the mournful choir. Holding her breath, Ahsoka scanned the area as best as she could in the Force. There were only two of them: Anakin and herself. But that made no sense. The screams were loud enough to be right next to her.

A groan shattered her concentration and her eyes flew open. Everything had been quiet save for the rhythmic thudding of his boots on the hard ground.

Was his hand shaking?

Sure enough, Anakin's free hand—which was pressed to his face—was trembling. From what she could see, his teeth were bared and his eyes wide, as though he was seeing something horrible.

The screaming continued, relentless.

"Stop it," he muttered, "Master Qui-Gon—stop this please—I can't see them die again."

A low, disembodied voice responded.

"No, Anakin, if you choose this path, then there will be no turning back. This is by your doing—these are your memories. I am doing nothing."

The screaming intensified.

"Think of what the Dark Side will make you do! You took your first steps when you took those lives, but you still have a chance. Do not do this, Anakin! Do not let yourself be haunted by the past."

Ahsoka listened with bated breath. Qui-Gon Jinn: now that was not a name she'd ever forget. He was Obi-Wan's Master. Anakin had told her that Obi-Wan hardly ever spoke of him, especially these days. It had been Master Jinn who had found Anakin on Tatooine all those years ago and fought for him with the Council—and whose dying breath had been an instruction to Obi-Wan to train the still-young Anakin Skywalker.

"Master, why did you have to die? Why couldn't you have trained me?" His voice was bitter, and Ahsoka's eyes widened. She longed to ask him why he suddenly hated Obi-Wan so much, but she stayed quiet out of fear of making them stop. Plus, she didn't even know if she  _ could _ speak...

"I was not aware that you disliked my padawan so much," Master Qui-Gon replied. His voice had a scathing hint to it as he replied.

The Dark Side flared and the screaming faded. Anakin's new force signature blanketed the area and it was oddly calm, as if he was focused on silencing the desperate cries of the lost. Despite the chills it gave her, Ahsoka found that it was much easier to hear their conversation without all the extra noise.

"I—" Anakin took a deep breath. "You know that I end up killing him in the future?  _ I _ kill him, Ahsoka, Padme—" His voice choked on the last name.

Kriffing hells,  _ that  _ was what he saw? 

"And you hate Obi-Wan for it? Why?" Master Qui-Gon asked gently.

"He made me lose control. I become a monster... Master. I—he is the one who lets me do all of this, he tries to—he  _ almost _ kills me but then he lets me live and keep on—" Anakin let out a garbled sound of frustration. "I can't live with myself!"

"You mean he lets you get away with all of it? We're talking about the future, Anakin, but Obi-Wan will always be Obi-Wan. He cares about you, I hope you know that he could never kill you."

Anakin let out a long sigh, bowing his head slightly. "He didn't finish the job."

"Could you do that to him?" The question seemed to take him aback, shock rippling through the Force.

"I—why are we doing this?" Anakin's silhouette jerked to the left as though he had been stung and Ahsoka visualized a tall Jedi Master facing him from the right. Suppressed anger roiled beneath the surface, leaking through Anakin's shields to the point where Ahsoka felt like she was drowning in the fury. The calm blanket of darkness no longer sat idly.

"I'm doing this because this is wrong, Anakin," was the reply. "When you were sent to the Well of the Dark Side, this was not supposed to happen. Think of what you saw. Think of Padm—"

"Don't even  _ say _ her name," Anakin hissed. His grief was overpowering, and his voice came at a whisper. "I don't ha—"

It was like the voice of Master Jinn was distorting, coming from a distance as Anakin's emotions flooded the Force.

"Your actions right now will  _ not _ save her, think of the future you are creating!"

"I don't have to listen to you!" He hissed to the air, eyes bright with fury.

A nearby rockpile exploded, and Ahsoka was suddenly aware of the invisible chains tightening around her. She let out a muffled cry, attempting to free herself, but to no avail. In front of her, Anakin stood still, his fists balled up at his sides and his head bowed. It didn't matter that she couldn't see his expression. Ahsoka didn't think she would have recognized him anyway.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, constructive criticism and all comments/kudos are welcome. Thank you for reading! :3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited as of 7/8/19

Obi-wan was floating. 

Or rather, he was weightless with nothing touching him at all, and it really  _ felt  _ like he was floating. He became aware of an intense tingling in the back of his skull, pulsing there as if it had its own heartbeat. It was an odd sensation, and it had nabbed at his curiosity until he finally decided to open his eyes.

_ Well, this is certainly a new one, Kenobi. _

Everything was dark, save for a spider-like expanse of white lines around him. Maybe they were bridges? He couldn’t tell. All he knew was that everything seemed to be far away, and that he was drifting in darkness. Whispers surrounded him, voices that he thought he could recognize, but they were not coherent enough for him to place.

Something tickled his chest, a sharp piercing pain right above his heart, making him cough in response. His left hand automatically shot towards the burning sensation, but he was stopped short mid-reach. Something invisible seemed to be holding him back. He looked down, breaths quickening at the sight of the blood-red, smoky hand that tightly gripped his arm.

_ Where had that come from? _

Another sharp pain hit him in the chest and he curled inwards with a quiet gasp. He struggled to move but found that more red hands had come up to pull at him. Straining, he fought to break free, finding—much to his dismay—that he was too weak to remove himself.

_ “Kenobi…” _

The coarse whisper came to his ears even as he struggled. 

Distantly, he heard a scream. Despair and pain made the sound raw. It was his own __ echoing cry from the heartbreaking moment all those years ago on Naboo. Memories of the horned Zabrak flashed into his mind, sending waves of regret crashing through his mind.. If only he hadn’t fallen to the lower levels, he would have been there with his Master  _ inside  _ the ray-shielded reactor core instead of standing outside, unable to do anything but watch him fall. If only he was faster, a  _ better  _ apprentice—

Obi-Wan felt as though he was pulled underwater,  _ drowning _ , as the hands continued to pull him down and down. There was no water, but the lights seemed to dim, the distant bridges winking out one by one into nonexistence. He let out a sigh, letting his eyes close briefly.

Of all things, he wished that he could see Anakin, not the corrupted Jedi who had turned his back on him, but the rash, brilliant, impatient padawan who he’d trained for all those years. Whispers of betrayal and hate emanated from somewhere below Obi-Wan, as though a hidden ventriloquist was quietly reciting a poem in the darkness. 

Closing his eyes, he struggled to find peace. The Dark Side was all around him now, more powerful than even the depths of Mortis’s hellish pit of fire. And he was tired, oh so tired. 

Another spike of pain radiated from his heart, and his breath hitched. There was no energy left in his body to react. Instead, he lay there and let himself be dragged further down, the previously harsh whispers quickly becoming a soothing hum in the back of his mind. The darkness was singing to him a deadly song of quiet and calm.

_ I need to rest…I need— _

_ “Obi-Wan,” _ Qui-Gon’s soft undertone was a whisper to his ears, somehow sharper than all the voices and the music calling him to sleep.

Obi-Wan’s mind felt lethargic even as he tried to respond. Force, he was so tired. His limbs were made of lead, his blood felt so slow and sluggish…

“Master,” he whispered, struggling to open his eyes again.

_ “Stay with me, Obi-Wan.” _ The low voice was soothing, but then so was the music. He just wanted to sleep, at least for a little while. Was it too much to ask?

A bright light quickly filled his gaze, making him squint. He groaned as his head pounded from the sudden shock of light. A luminescent ghostly form reached out its arms, just as hundreds of dark hands tugged and grasped at his body on all sides. Renewed pain ran through his chest, sharp and throbbing this time. It was like his heart was beating too fast, pounding an irregular tempo into his collarbone.

Strands of light reached down through what looked like a tear in in the sky and lashed themselves to his limbs. Its touch was cool at first, but warmth began to spread through his body. It felt wondrous and oddly refreshing. But then the light began to pull him in—hard. That would have been all well and good if the darkness hadn’t pulled back with equal vigor.

It felt as though he was being ripped apart.

His heart was now beating so fast that Obi-Wan was struggling to stay conscious, crying out as he felt his blood burn from the heat of the light. Instinctively, he tried to rip his hands from the light, longing for the comforts of the dark behind him. His chest rose and fell quickly as he became lightheaded from the hyperventilation.

_ “Life isn’t done with you yet, apprentice.” _ Qui-Gon’s low voice was changing, becoming a harmony of many different, almost unfamiliar, tones.

Obi-Wan just had enough time feel the horrible sensation of his body being ripped in half before the light surrounded him with its great arms.

_ “You will live.”  _

||

If the darkness had been a beautiful, fake dream, then the light was a terrible, real hell. That was at least how Obi-Wan felt when he awakened on the dark stone of Mortis. Instantly, the pain crashed over him so terribly that he had to sink his teeth into his lip to stop from screaming out loud.

“Lie still,” came the deep, multilayered voice of the Father, “I had quite the time bringing you back. You were nearly gone by the time I arrived. My apologies.”

A part of Obi-Wan wished that the Father had just let him rest. He was just  _ so  _ tired.

_ Wait, was I just dead? Mother of Gundarks, is that what Ahsoka had to go through when she came back? No wonder she was so tired all the time. _

“You’re wondering if your companion suffered as much,” the Father mused. His eyes seemed to twinkle in understanding. “You would be relieved to hear that I do not believe so.”

_ Do I really seem that much like a grumpy old man? _

The pain had mostly subsided by now and Obi-Wan analyzed his surroundings. First of all, he was no longer in the Well of the Dark Side. Secondly, he was in the monolith’s courtyard…  _ somehow.  _ He reasoned that it was the Father’s doing.

His eyes widened as he was struck by another realization, significantly more pressing and vital than the previous two.

_ I have to warn Ahsoka! Stupid, Kenobi, that should’ve been the first thing you did! _

He struggled to sit up but immediately pulled back when the world began to spin uncontrollably. Letting out a stream of air through his teeth, he lowered himself back to the ground, shaking.

“I have not finished healing you,” the Father said sternly. “You must wait.”

“—need to warn Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan breathed, sluggishly pulling his right hand to his chest.

He saw with relief that his wrist commlink was still intact. There had been no other reason that it would be gone other than the Son taking it, but it was worth something all the same. Reaching up with his left hand, Obi-Wan practically smashed the button to open the frequency.

“ ‘soka, come ‘n.”

_ Damn this weakness. Damn it all. _

With a deep breath, he grappled with his frustration until he managed to purge it from his system. As he did so, he noted that his mental shields were in shambles. That was not good, not good at all.

“Come in, Ahsoka,” he repeated, voice shaking just slightly from the exertion.

Nothing.

It took all of his self-discipline to not try Anakin’s channel. The Father clearly noticed his hesitation, his eyes filling with what could be considered sympathy.

“My son has broken the Laws of Time and shown him the future. I fear that by bringing you here, I have doomed the galaxy to darkness.” The Father’s voice was sorrowful, echoing completely through the courtyard.

“We can still turn this around,” Obi-Wan replied, lying back as the world around him seemed to tilt again. “I just—”

The Father interrupted him, moving closer so he could send his piercing turquoise-eyed gaze right into Obi-Wan’s.

“In the near future, you will have an opportunity to end this. In the case that I cannot bring the Chosen One back,  _ you _ are the one who must strike down my son.”

At the Father’s proclamation, dread shot through Obi-Wan’s veins, and he barely could conceal the shudder that ran down his body. 

He hated killing; it was something that he’d tried to refrain from since his run-in with the Sith on Naboo all those years ago. Regardless of rank or any misdeeds, what gave him the right to be judge, jury, and executioner of another life? 

He tried to sit up once again but felt a hand gently push him back down.

“I will put you into a healing trance. Know that when you awaken, it will be time. You will know what to do.”

He would have commented on what the Father had just asked him to do, protesting the whole idea and saying that he was the wrong person to do it. He also would have asked for some sort of clarification on the part about “you will know when it’s time”, but he found that every muscle in his body was becoming heavy and sluggish. Despite all his questions and doubts, he instinctively let the feeling wash over him.

In his mind’s eye, Obi-Wan saw Anakin and his yellow eyes, glaring down at him behind the red flashes of the Sith lightning. Dull grief settled in his chest, numbed by the heaviness of the oncoming healing trance.

_ Come back to the light, Anakin _ .

_ Come back to me.  _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, constructive criticism and all comments/kudos are welcome. Thank you for reading! :3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had a fiasco getting this together, Christmas really had busy for a while and work *ugh*, jk I work in a bookstore and it's great, but still had a busy time. 
> 
> Here is the latest chapter.  
> ~LazarusII

_Ahsoka watched as Anakin’s face broke into a smile, his blue eyes twinkling as she exited the sleep Naboo spaceliner. His pride resonated through the force, mixed with a strong sense of relief which was -unsurprisingly- directed at Padme. Ahsoka returned the smile and let loose a long sigh as her feet finally touched solid ground._

_It had been a long couple days filled with action, restless sleep, and non-stop worry. She could use a break, even if it was a short one. Her mind fixated on the idea of a stroll through the gardens. Yes, that sounded very good._

_Behind her, Aurra Sing appeared, escorted by six or seven guards, hissing as they forcibly dragged her along. Turning, Ahsoka gazed into the angry woman’s darkened eyes. Aurra’s facepaint was rubbing off, smearing into a gothic array of bruise-like patches above and below her eyes; the contrast between the paint and her ivory skin did no favors in making her seem less zombie-like. Ahsoka suppressed a shudder._

_Anakin came to stand with her, his shoes softly thudding on the metal floor of the docking bay. He patted her on the shoulder, offering a wide smile down at her before turning to Padme and executing a bow. Ahsoka had caught herself rolling her eyes. He was about one of the least subtle people on the face of the planet; it was a wonder how Obi-Wan could even function on missions with him, what with the whole “Negotiator” title and all._

_Clearly, she hadn’t been able to hide away all of her sarcastic thoughts, for the next thing she knew, Anakin’s blue eyes were boring holes in her skull._

_The three of them watched Aurra Sing depart for the Republic Detention Center, before splitting up. Ahsoka was let loose -much to her joy- and immediately headed for the gardens. In typical Anakin fashion, he made Ahsoka some transparent excuse for leaving before running off with the Senator._

_That time, Ahsoka really did roll her eyes._

_Good times, good times._

Ahsoka withdrew from the memory and made an attempt to look around. She was still floating and surrounded by rocks, that was for sure. Staring up at the darkened sky, she groaned aloud. It was so incredibly irritating that she could do nothing.

The longer she stayed in her Master’s new, dark presence, the more she had become convinced that he was stronger than before. What earlier had been a muddy mess had evened out like a turbulent pool of water gone still. It seemed that his inner conflict -his constant mental battle against the darkness- had vanished without a trace. It was like a curtain being lifted, leaving only a cold resolve in the force. Of course, it wasn’t a perfect _resolve_ , more like an enhanced chill in the force that was positively tame in comparison to its former self. But Ahsoka knew that the cold was temporary. Should she poke and prod at that mask or list a chosen few trigger words, the resulting explosion of rage would be pure and unchained. The terrible thing was that it made perfect sense as to why he was so much more powerful now; a part of her couldn’t believe that she was even thinking of him in such a way. Every bone in her body was screaming that her Master hadn’t fallen and that she was deluding herself, but her brain was reminding her of the Jedi and their borderline unrealistic standards which he had fought against for years. No attachments, no emotion, no love, no hate, and so on. He had fought against those same rules every single day and that internal war had bogged him down, slowing his decisions. Now, it seemed all that hesitation was gone right along with his doubt, morality, and everything else that had made Anakin Skywalker her Master.

Obi-Wan had known about Anakin’s struggle. Ahsoka, who had been taken aback at first by how quickly her new Master reached his boiling point, had broached the subject of his internal maelstrom early on in her apprenticeship to her Grandmaster -in private of course. Obi-Wan had only shaken his head, telling her that it was a part of Anakin which he had tried to reach and failed. Ahsoka had looked into his eyes and seen sadness mixed with a strange melancholy which she later identified as a form of self-incrimination. After that, it only took her several seconds to realize that Obi-Wan blamed himself for Anakin’s shortcomings and that Anakin, despite thinking that he knew everything, did not realize how much his former Master still cared.

Seeing Anakin now, what with his yellow eyes and dark presence, the entire situation seemed downright tragic. Just thinking of Obi-Wan and what he would say nearly brought Ahsoka to tears once more.

_Think here and now, Ahsoka. Think here and now._

Anakin still held her in place, plodding slowly back to the ship without even a hint of fatigue -a fact that intrigued Ahsoka more than anything else. Above them, the sky was dark and gloomy, blending in with the darkened stone and mist. Nothing had changed.

She let out a long breath of air and let her eyelids slide closed, giving in to another attempt at meditation. The calm did not come easy.

||

In the depths of what little light in the force she had, it took Ahsoka a moment to realize that the voices she could hear were real. Her eyes snapping open, she struggled once more within her force-constructed restraints.

The distant silhouette of their crashed ship stood out against the rocky planet nearby. Three figures moved about next to it two of them dressed in light clothes while the third seemed to soak up the dim light around it- the Son. Ahsoka’s heart leaped as she thought she spied Obi-Wan’s cream-colored robes.

_That had to have been the Father there too,_ she thought wildly, _I don’t know anyone else wearing teal._

Anakin had halted his approach and stood there, silently watching. Much to Ahsoka’s dismay, her Master had planted himself right in her line of sight, blocking her line of sight to all but the Son.

_Ugh._

She grappled her frustration back into the force, surprising herself with how easily it left her. A part of her hoped that Anakin could feel how well she had let go of her emotions and offer some sort of comment, proud or not. It was a hopeless wish and Ahsoka knew it, but the old Anakin would have been proud of her emotional control.

There was a strangled cry and suddenly she was falling. It was only through repeated practice that she managed to roll, absorbing the impact of the fall and coming up on one knee. Out of habit, her hands shot to her belt. With a jolt, she was reminded of the pair of lightsabers which Anakin had taken earlier.

Whipping about, she watched her Master’s form flying toward the ship at breakneck speed, his deactivated lightsaber clutched in his right hand. Above him, just past the crest of the hill, the teal figure was on the ground, the Son leaned over him. Ahsoka’s stomach plummeted. Obi-Wan was nowhere to be seen, but that wasn’t what was bothering her. Was that a sword in the Father’s chest?

She took off after Anakin, blood pounding in her ears. Every step hurt, sending shooting spasms up her legs and into her chest which was oddly tight. Her shoulders were stiff from being trapped for so long in bad posture, aching terribly as she sprinted up the hill toward the ship. More than ever, she could feel the strain of fighting Anakin earlier, not to mention the preceding trip to the afterlife and back which had drained her of so much strength.

The Father and Son were growing closer and closer in her field of vision. Ahsoka could see the Son’s grief-stricken face and the way he held the Father, the cursed dagger lying far behind them, clearly thrown backward out of grief. A great tear in the middle of the Father’s chest was the only sign that something had gone wrong. Though she hadn’t seen the act, Ahsoka could guess what had happened.

_The Father stabbed himself,_ she thought in horror, _why?_

In front of her, Anakin slowed, before halting. Ahsoka followed suit, keeping a solid three or four meters between them. There was no way in hell she was going closer to her Master than she needed to -despite her every instinct to go and stand by him.

The Son was sobbing pitifully and the Father was comforting him in a low voice. Neither of them seemed aware of the figure slowly rising from the shadows nearby, spectre-like in the thick mist behind the Son. Preoccupied with the Father, the dark man was oblivious to what happened behind him.

“I knew there was good in you,” the Father pulled the Son into a tight hug, raising his head a fraction of an inch to stare at the figure.

Obi-Wan approached slowly and Ahsoka’s eyes widened as she saw a deep conflict painted there. Brow furrowed, eyes trained downwards, her Grandmaster approached slowly. In his hand, the cylindrical form of his lightsaber glittered. He was about a meter from the Son when the growing tension seemed to finally burst. Several things happened at once.

Anakin, who finally seemed to catch onto what was about to happen, lurched into action, igniting his blade and letting loose a raw cry.

“No!”

At that moment, even before her Master’s feet had left the ground, the force called to Ahsoka. Well, ‘called’ wasn’t even the proper word for it. More like _screamed_. Without many notions of what she was even attempting, Ahsoka leaped forwards, diving for Anakin’s legs in earnest. The force of her jump carried him off of his feet and he came crashing down on top of her.

But that was only half of the picture.

What Ahsoka _didn’t_ see was the terrible indecisiveness in Obi-Wan’s face as he ignited his blade, the way that it shook in his grip, or how an unseen hand jerked the weapon forwards and deep into the spine of the Son who found himself a prisoner of his father’s embrace.

The only thing she _did_ see was her Grandmaster jerking back from the two doomed family members, his lightsaber flying out of his hand and landing nearby with a clatter. She heard his cry and Anakin’s despairing grasp, feeling a similar horror enter her mind as she watched the lifeless body of the Son fall to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, constructive criticism and all comments/kudos are welcome. Thank you for reading! :3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've bumped up the maturity just to be sure. Nothing too bad right now, but there's no telling where this fic is headed.  
> ~LazarusII

**Earlier…**

Awakening from a healing trance wasn’t exactly what Obi-Wan would describe as a pleasant experience. Since the war, his trips to the bacta tank and healing wing had increased, as had the amount of time he’d spent sleeping under the influence of the said trance. He loathed it deeply. It was the looks of pity, the constant worries, and -should it be deemed necessary- the arduous recovery that only added to the increasing pile of gripes.

Once, during a particularly nasty mission, he’d had a chunk of his lower back chewed up by a vengeful droid. Anakin’s young padawan brain had nearly imploded when he’d found Obi-Wan lying flat on his back, pinned to the ground by the bolt through his ankle, barely holding back a robotic arm from ripping apart his throat. Nasty business. Of course, he’d survived, but by a much closer margin than he’d ever care to remember. In fact, the only thing he remembered of the return trip was Anakin’s fear breaking apart every fragile object within a ten-meter radius. He’d awoken in the Jedi Temple’s Halls of Healing nearly a week later, suffocating on bacta fluid and off his face on cheap pain meds. Well, he knew he’d been off his face because he doubted that Master Yoda walked on the ceiling in his spare time. That and the fact that he didn’t think that Mace had ever donned a stripper costume or a yellow sunhat -ever. Later, he was told the story of Anakin force-feeding him pain meds on the trip home and messing up the dosage.

Back then, he could spend his times in healing with nothing but the lost days of teaching to worry about. Sure, he’d had to deal with his anxious, impatient padawan, but there wasn’t a war. Steadily, the allocated healing time had decreased as demand increased. Jedi numbers had dropped and healers suddenly became rare like small, precious gemstones. Now, he had to worry about the next battle. Not just that, but the Republic depended on his successes. A single fight in his absence could lose the war -a fact which he had soon realized after being appointed General.

But right now, neither the Republic, nor the war really mattered to him. No, it was the people he was failing with every passing minute of inactivity. Ahsoka had been left alone and vulnerable in her weakened state. Hell, she was probably already facing Anakin on her own -maybe the Son as well.

 _What use are you in your current state, Kenobi?_ He asked himself.

He remembered all those times that Qui-Gon had lectured him on patience and sank deeper into the force in search of an answer.

_Master, is there a way out of this?_

For a moment, he felt a shadow of his Master’s presence brush against his mind before it danced away. Obi-Wan let his disappointment rush out of him and dissolve into the force. The selfish part of his soul, which he had worked so hard to expel, wanted to at least hear Qui-Gon’s voice again.

_I will trust in the force, Master._

_Just as I trust you._

||

His head hurt like the biggest hangover he’d had in decades. Obi-Wan automatically brought his hands to his face, rubbing the bridge of his nose firmly to minimal effect. Groaning, he opened his eyes and sent the force a silent ‘thank you’ for it being dark. At least he didn’t have to deal with the half-blinding light of the Halls of Healing.

He was in a large room constructed of the same dark stone as the planet -chiseled and roughly hewn. A faint light came through the open window near the foot of the bed, its simple cloth curtains waving in the soft breeze. Closing his eyes, he took in a deep breath through his nose before exhaling out his mouth. Though his body ached, he felt oddly replenished.

_That must have been one hell of a healing trance._

Somehow, he didn’t doubt it, considering the Father had been the one to put him under.

Obi-Wan silently rose into a sitting position and stretched before swinging his legs off of the bed. As he moved, his joints cracked and popped, making him internally wince.

 _I guess I’m getting old,_ he mused.

“Are you ready?” Came the Father’s deep voice.

Obi-Wan had not heard him come and turned his head so quickly that the world spun. Closing one eye, he acknowledged the renewed pounding in his forehead and reached into the force. Silently, he isolated the pain and nudged it with his mind, coaxing it away. Only when the world returned to its normal focus did he reopen the other eye slowly. Only seconds had passed, but the room already felt as silent as a graveyard; he found himself fighting to stay in a neutral mood as the piercing blue eyes of the Father bored into his skull.

“I know what you want me to do,” he said flatly, eyes trained on the Father’s left shoulder. “You want me to kill your son, don’t you?”

The Father heaved a sigh and glided to the window without a sound. Obi-Wan watched him intently. The old man’s deeply-lined face was twisted with grief.

“Do I _want_ you to kill my son?” He turned to Obi-Wan, his hand grasping the windowsill, “no, I do not. But it is necessary.”

_Necessary. There’s always an explanation behind that word._

Obi-Wan stared down at his hands, “you said earlier that you originally planned for Anakin to do it. Why him?” He slowly lurched to his feet, a hand pressing the wall for stability. At his side, the metal of his lightsaber connected with the rough stone, clanging softly in the silent air.

“He was the natural choice,” came the reply, “he is both strong and driven when it comes to doing what is right. He has proven himself to be the Chosen One.”

The frown that had begun at the very start of the Father’s response blossomed into a full-blown scowl. _Chosen One? The prophecy again?_

Even before Anakin officially became his padawan, the idea that he was the prophesized individual had latched onto him like a hungry tick. It had differentiated him from the other trainees almost instantly and created quite an amount of friction between himself and his upperclassmen. He’d excelled in combat, flying, and engineering, not to mention setting record after record on the different physical and force-related tests. Needless to say, it had fed his ego to the point where the more reckless and arrogant aspects of his personality had become irreversible. Despite this, Anakin had gone through his fair share of struggles. Emotional control and writing were two major issues -not to mention the extremely difficult meditation sessions- had plagued him since his early padawan days.

_The Chosen One._

The title alone had given Obi-Wan enough pain for a lifetime.

“Can you help Anakin?” He asked, carefully watching the Father’s expression. After a few seconds, he deduced it would be easier reading a rock.

_Great._

“Yes,” came the reply and Obi-Wan felt relief enter his mind. But it was too soon to celebrate; there was just too much at stake to be careless. So much could go wrong at any minute. Hell, the world could end for all he knew. That was Mortis.

“I must come into contact with him,” the Father continued, “I will warn you, it is unlikely that my son will let me near your apprentice. He will know what I intend to do.”

“Right,” Obi-Wan nodded, “and I’m guessing that’s where I come in.”

“Yes.”

“You must kill my son.”

Obi-Wan cleared his throat and fixated his eyes on the roughly-hewn archway which lead to the main hall. He wasn’t comfortable with killing, he never had since his padawan days. He fought for life and sought to save instead of taking. His hesitation had only grown after Maul… But there were some things he would rather not dig up. They were fragments, scar tissue left behind by the tragedy of years past. It was _now_ that he had to decide what to do. His mind whispered doubts and he smoothly let the practiced mask of the ‘Negotiator’ fall, hiding his internal dilemma from the outside world.

There was a very big ‘if’ about whether he could even manage to kill the Son in the first place -at least in his mind, there was. Darkness and corrupt nature aside, many things differentiated Darth Maul and the Son. Maul, whose name hadn’t been divulged in interrogation until months after Naboo, had been upfront and violent, playing right into many of the more common Sith stereotypes.

“They say never to doubt your abilities on the eve of battle. Find balance.”

Obi-Wan, not for the first time, wished the Father wasn’t so damn perceptive. He cleared his throat but remained silent.

For every reason he felt it was necessary to respond, twenty more popped into his head urging him not to. Instead, he focused inward. Years of practice allowed him to shed the layers of insecurity without hesitation. He was a Jedi and they could not be allowed to think such things.

He _had_ to go through with this. Their lives depended on it.

||

Obi-Wan had been walking for only a few seconds before blinking and reemerging near the ship. This had happened only once before when he’d been searching for the Father. It was a strange sensation, like every cell in his body was being pulled forward by a vacuum.

The Father was just ahead of him, his graceful figure gliding as though he were a ghost. Above them lay the ship, perched on the distant hill like a collapsed metallic bird. Even from where he stood, Obi-Wan could see the large, dark gashes in the hull -traces of Anakin’s less than pleasant landing. Who could blame him? Obi-Wan would certainly have had a similar reaction if padawan Anakin Skywalker had suddenly been abducted by what some would call a god of darkness.

_Speaking of darkness…_

Framed by the faint light of the cabin, the shape of a towering man could be seen standing by the ramp of the ship. Even as Obi-Wan watched, the man shifted his weight and a flash of red eyes lit the night.

“He knows we’re here.” He said evenly. The Father bowed his head.

“There was no way of getting here without his knowledge.”

Obi-Wan hummed softly in agreement. He didn’t doubt it.

They made their way up the hill slowly. With every passing step, the air seemed to grow heavier. Obi-Wan began to feel the pull of memories which he’d worked so hard to bury as they worked to consume his thoughts and plunge him deep into despair. In his mind’s eye, he saw the young woman on Ryloth who had been shot right in front of him, the farmer on Felucia who hadn’t escaped the pirate’s vibroblade, and the many families he’d seen suffer at the hands of General Grievous. One by one, he squashed the memories back. They were the past.

 _I learned from each one of those memories and I will not make the same mistakes again._ Without realizing it, his hand crept up to his belt. The cold touch of his lightsaber was surprisingly welcome.

Hand still at his hip, Obi-Wan threw a glance upward at the top of the hill. He frowned. The hill was not that tall, but for some unforeseen reason, both it and the Son seemed to keep getting farther and farther away. Hell, they were walking in circles. Confusion entered his mind and he grappled with the idea of what was happening, but his mind seemed to slow down even further.

He stopped. Something was wrong. Even his foggy brain could tell that much for sure. He clapped a hand to his forehead, pinching the bridge of his nose. He could feel the Father’s eyes on him, raking over his face.

“Why do you do this, my Son?” He heard the Father ask.

Suddenly, his mind was clear. Obi-Wan spun around, keenly aware that there was an immensely dark presence behind him. His lightsaber flew into the palm of his right hand and he was sorely tempted to ignite it, restraining only under the terrible realization that it would do absolutely no good in this situation. Somehow, the Son had managed to influence him, bending his perception and dulling his thoughts. He didn’t even dare guess on how much power and skill it took just to get a fraction of the potency without some rare Sith artifact.

Now his mind really did flash back to a terrible place, one which could be described with a single trigger word: Zigoola. If he never had to think about that planet again, it would still be too soon. Deep in wild space and surrounded by a whole host of terrible rumors, the Sith-controlled planet had been the home to a Sith temple filled with deadly artifacts. He, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Bale Organa had been tasked with destroying the Sith roots there, something which had proved far more deadly than either of them could’ve possibly imagined.

Needless to say, Obi-Wan had barely made it out alive. Hell, Bale Organa had barely made it either, Obi-Wan had almost killed the man himself once the Sith hallucinations had kicked in. Mortis was almost as bad in atmosphere, but the Dark Side felt so much more potent. Zigoola had been made terrible through engineering, but Mortis was an entirely different beast. It _lived_ the Dark Side. 

The Son glanced down at him before brushing past and facing the Father, his arrogance filling the air.

“Father, you know that I have a destiny elsewhere. You _know_ that I don’t belong here.” The man’s voice was filled with desperation; Obi-Wan recalled the way that Anakin, back in his earliest days, had developed a similar tone of voice.

“Yes…” The Father replied, still stone-faced, “I do. But you must understand why I cannot allow you to leave.”

Rage began to seep into the force, projected by the Son, much like a cracked pane of glass holding back a powerful flow of water.

“How can you do this?” The Son protested, “we have been kept here like _animals_ , is this what you wanted, Father? The life of a caged beast?” The man was positively spitting. What Obi-Wan could see of his face, was contorted into a snarl.

Obi-Wan edged around the fight, moving behind the Son’s back. Was this what the Father had meant by giving him a window of opportunity? He froze in place, waiting. It was possible that the Father could give him a sign.

“Son, I never wanted you to have a life like this,” the Father was saying, his head bowed, “I wanted you to be free-”

“YOU’VE KEPT ME ON THIS PLANET MY ENTIRE LIFE!” The Son yelled, his voice raw. The man strode forward until he was nose to nose with the Father, who backed up almost immediately. A pale fist rose, preparing to strike, a silvery dagger materializing in its clutches.

Obi-Wan acted. There wasn’t much he could do. He thought of Anakin and Ahsoka and his lightsaber blazed to life. He pulled the force in around him and shot off of the ground, shooting forwards with as much speed as he could muster.

Three meters.

Two.

One.

The Son’s laugh filled the air as he lowered the dagger. “I should’ve known that you would bring someone. Too weak to take me alone, Father? But let’s face it, that isn’t exactly a surprise, is it?”

Obi-Wan was floating, suspended in limbo above the ground, his lightsaber still raised. His eyes widened as a red tendril of light extended from the Son’s fingertips and snaked its way towards him.

The Father lunged forwards. “No!”

“Shut up, old man!” The Son shoved the man away and turned his focus onto Obi-Wan, a sneer twisting his expression.

“ _You_ ,” he drawled, “the _Master_ without an apprentice, how touching that you should come to my father’s defense. He’s useless, anyone can tell that. Let him die.”

“I never would have thought myself as useless.” The Father raised his hands and the Son was thrown to the side and into the nearest rock face, cracking the stone, crying out as his hand hit a sharp corner. No blood spilled from what should have been a sizable wound.

As the Son’s influence broke off, Obi-Wan fell to the ground, but not before a touch of the red light had curled into his chest. He met the stone with his hands, preventing himself from landing on his face. His knees bashed into the ground rather painfully, but it was nothing he couldn’t tolerate. Shaking his head, he just barely had a chance to look up before the Father sent him flying backward as the Son’s red lightning connected with the spot where he’d just been crouched only seconds before.

The force shove hadn’t been that strong and he easily was able to pull himself back up. The problem: the fogginess around his head had returned rather badly. Flashes of white ghostly forms flickered in and out of his vision.

“Blast,” he muttered. It was the Son again, he knew it.

For a moment, he tottered around in place, staring around with wide eyes at his surroundings. It was incredible and horrifying at the same time. Bits and pieces of memory floated in and out of view, surrounded in the same milky-white fog. He saw himself, ten to twelve years younger, grappling a Trandoshan bounty hunter to the ground while a young Anakin deflected blaster bolts away. Nearby, Qui-Gon Jinn stood beside a young Obi-Wan, hooded and shaking his head in what looked like disappointment. Just over his left shoulder stood Darth Maul, his Sith-masked gaze resting on a dying Jedi on the ground, a fatal lightsaber wound burned all the way through his chest. Obi-Wan’s blood ran cold. He remembered that moment too well, reliving it for months afterward and waking in a cold sweat. Only over long years had the memory of his Master’s death begun to lessen in intensity, but it never lost its power to send Obi-Wan Kenobi years into the past and back to what he had always thought to be his greatest failure.

His heart hammered within his chest and he squinted in an attempt to see where the Son and Father had gone. Whatever devilish trick the Son had cast him under had clearly not been strong. While every single memory was a distraction, triggering emotions within him, he could still focus. He realized that, had the visions been more potent, he could have easily lost his way.

_Where are you?_

Finally, he saw two shapes on the edge of his vision. They were faint, but clearly not a part of his vision. A tinge of red emanated from one of the forms, lighting up the dark blotch with a lamp-like glow.

_The Son._

It was like traveling through a small hurricane. As soon as he took his first step, the world began to spin and a wind howled in his ears. Whispers assaulted his ears, incoherent, but all clearly people whom he knew. He caught snippets of screaming, all Anakin’s voice, paired with his own cry -terrible and raw. Something similar came with Ahsoka’s voice, almost understandably screaming his name, sounding as though she were for something he could not hear.

_Ignore it, Kenobi, ignore it!_

But it was so hard to stay focused on the pinprick forms ahead of him. The closer he came, the farther he seemed to be -the same as earlier but worse. The air itself vibrated with power as tendrils of light snaked down towards his eyes. He automatically brought a hand up to bat away the glowing fingers but found that it did nothing. A dark line was approaching like an oncoming wall, cutting off all living things beyond it. It was a black hole in comparison to the dizzying tornado he was in.

He mentally counted down to the rim and when he reached it, paused. Mentally, he drew in his shields even further, bringing his energy inwards. In his hand, he clutched his lightsaber in tightly, igniting it. He closed his eyes and washed away all of his hesitations.

This was for Anakin and Ahsoka’s futures, hell, it was for the sake of the galaxy. If he didn’t end the Son while he was on Mortis, it would be the end. This was his chance.

He narrowed his eyes. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. The Father was on the ground and the Son was leaning over him. As Obi-Wan stepped through the barrier, he was met with a wave of grief and nearly fell as it washed over him like a tidal wave. He closed his eyes and let the emotions roll off of him. It was crucial that nothing distracted him. He could not-

When Obi-Wan opened his eyes, his heart skipped a beat. The two figures in front of him had changed, morphed from what they had been before. Eyes wide, he took in the body of Qui-Gon Jinn laid out over the cold stone, the dark form of Anakin Skywalker leaned over him, grieving. A deep puncture wound marred the front of his Master’s cream-colored robes.

He faltered, his lightsaber becoming loose in his grip.

It was so real, so clear and clean. Was it real? How could it be? But how could it not be? Over the years, he’d memorized all the creases and wrinkles of Qui-Gon Jinn’s face. They made him different than everyone else, separating him from any wannabe-imposter. No one, save for the force-ghost of his Master himself had managed such a clean image.

He shook his head, remembering the body on the funeral pyre.

_This can’t be real. It can’t be._

One foot moved in front of the other, moving him forwards. He _had_ to keep going. It was fake. It was all fake.

Anakin shifted his back to him, shoulders hunched as he held Qui-Gon’s hand in his own.

“I’m sorry,” the man whispered, “I killed them all, Master. I-I-” Choked up, Anakin passed a hand over his face.

Struck by such a vulnerable moment from usually such a guarded person, Obi-Wan froze.

 _“It’s a lie, Obi-Wan, do not trust your eyes,”_ came the disembodied voice of Qui-Gon Jinn.

Every sense screaming for him to stop, Obi-Wan raised his lightsaber. He was within striking distance. A single sneeze and the unaware former-apprentice would be dead. It would be so easy, but it felt so wrong.

_It’s so real… Master…_

_“It’s not, Obi-Wan, trust me. It’s an illusion.”_

Just then, Anakin turned around, shrinking in form as he went, the same heavy mist engulfing him. It wasn’t long before Obi-Wan found himself facing the same nine-year-old boy which he’d comforted after Qui-Gon’s funeral pyre. Tear-stained blue eyes stared into his, wide and innocent.

_“Obi-Wan!” Qui-Gon’s desperate cry filled the air around him._

But that didn’t make it any easier. Sith or not, Obi-Wan felt his morality stay his hand, pulling at his mind which still howled that this was fake. His hand shook and he gritted his teeth, indecisive. 

It felt so wrong. _Everything_ felt so wrong.

All of a sudden, a power seized his arm and pulled him forwards. Automatically he backpedaled, his face betraying his surprise and horror as the white-blue blade of his lightsaber buried itself into Anakin’s chest. The child’s mouth opened and Obi-Wan heard a terrible scream in the force.

Reality crashed back as the darkness of Mortis returned. As the planet’s atmosphere met his eyes, Obi-Wan stepped back, gasping for breath. His lightsaber fell from his hand and clattered to the dark stone nearby. Before him, the Son lay collapsed on the ground, now a lifeless corpse held in the arms of his father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, constructive criticism and all comments/kudos are welcome. Thank you for reading! :3


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dying father and an upcoming drastic change of scenery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! (HAHA I STAYED ON SCHEDULE!!!) Lots of real world stuff going on right now *cough cough exams*.
> 
> Tried to make this one a touch more poetic... dunno if you guys will like it, but I certainly had a blast writing it! I will note that, while it was fun, it was not easy AT ALL. My god, I struggled with the voice. This chapter has not been beta-read yet, so I was in a bit of a panic to get things wrapped up and presentable. Probs not the best editing job so bear with me!
> 
> ~LazarusII

_He sighed and slowly lowered the body to the ground. Beneath semi-closed lids, the dusky-red of his son’s lifeless gaze seemed to penetrate his soul with an icy dagger. It was as though the boy were merely asleep. The scene was such a stark contrast to the fiery volcano of uncontrollable anger that it was surreal._

_Despite his ways, the boy had been a free spirit, loving his family deeper either of them could possibly imagine. If not for such volatile emotions, they might have all been spared. That, however, did not make a father love his son any less._

_‘Mortis is a cage.’_

_‘It is a prison.’_

_Both had been the latest descriptions of life on the god-forsaken planet according to his son._

_I am sorry, my children. There is no way for me to express how much I wanted for you… and how I failed._

_Focusing inwards, he could practically see his life leaving his body from the wound in his chest. There was a light approaching slowly, creeping closer and closer with every passing breath. It would be arriving soon, very soon._

_The Jedi Master was in front of him, his lightsaber fallen to the ground from where he had dropped. The bright white light, which had surrounded the man since he had arrived, flickered. He had been touched by darkness, but he would recover._

_Regret tasted bitter in his mouth. In his scramble for control, he had been a fool._

_The Chosen One and his companions had paid for his mistake -dearly- but perhaps it was not too late to mend the past mistake._

_He turned his gaze to the two figures rapidly approaching from the base of the hill. First, came the Chosen One, the pinnacle of power and raw potential in a mortal form, followed by his apprentice whose light was rapidly flickering out. The girl had overextended herself. No child should have to face death and return so quickly. Though the force was kind and forgiving, the body seldom could withstand such physical strain, no matter how it was brought back from the others side._

_Reeling in his power, he felt the earth itself tremor slightly. Mortis was constructed in the very depths of the force, sustaining itself in tandem with the outside world -invisible to all. Where the force was the planet’s core, he was its living heartbeat, pumping his own life into every mountain and tree to maintain balance; until recently, he had also been the guardian of his children, imprisoning them to their own doom._

_He might be dying, but he was not dead yet._

_Time seemed to slow down as he concentrated, willing the last of his energy to obey his call. It obliged as always, surging from the planet itself to aid him. With a soft mind probe, he reached out to the Chosen One’s apprentice, washing the young girl’s pain away with ease. Her legs buckled as she fell to the ground._

_‘I am sorry, but I have not the strength to cushion your fall, young apprentice.’ He whispered to her through the force._

_‘Sleep now.’_

_The Jedi Master lurched forwards, his gaze fixed on the fallen girl, but was blocked by the Chosen One who advanced with narrowed eyes. Turmoil filled the young man’s mind, masked by many layers of deceptive calm._

_The pair faced each other, their force-signatures blending and weaving through one another. Their close companionship was showing._

_The Chosen One was looking at his Master with a mixture of shame and frustration. Self-hatred swirled around him, forming a roiling, twisted creature in the force. Flashes of raw emotion seeped through the locked-down folds of mental shielding, oozing out of the cracks like small trickles of water through a leaky dam. Images of the dead flickered in and out of his mind. First was a beautiful brunette woman, next, the Jedi Master himself, then more and more._

_They were the remnants of the forbidden technique used by his son._

_Grief._

_Anger._

_Sorrow._

_The Chosen One would forever carry darkness, but some of it could be removed._

_He sharpened his mind into a steel blade, throwing himself forwards and assaulting the Chosen One’s mind with all his might. Decades of slaughter and death washed through the connection, slogging into his mind as the corrupted thoughts left the young man’s body._

_A hysterical babble of tormented voices assaulted his conscience, piercing his ears with their terrible screams for help. They were the victims of the dark future, the lost, oppressed, and murdered. A much more human cry joined them as the young man joined their ghostly chorus. The Jedi Master was standing over him, shaking his former-apprentice despite the terrible risk of physical backlash. After all the pain and misery, he was still the Master and the Chosen One, his apprentice. One could only hope that the bond would hold back the pain yet to come. The three of them would need each other to survive. Whether they knew it or not, the Chosen One was not the only one with a destiny._

_And the fate of the galaxy depended on their every choice._

| | |

_The light was coming closer, approaching with a finality. He embraced it willingly, letting it shine over Mortis for the first time since his daughter’s passing. The light washed over the young apprentice first, her body dissolving into the light. His daughter’s spirit would live on within the girl’s soul, giving it strength even in the darkest of places. For now, however, it pulled the young one deeper into a restful slumber._

_Next, it engulfed the Jedi Master who automatically opened his heart to its warm touch before disappearing as well. The man was strong, but that strength was to be put to the test. While the Chosen One was the power and the apprentice the glue, he -the Master- was the guiding hand born of a turbulent lineage._

_‘May the force be with you, Master Jedi.’ He whispered._

_Distantly, he saw the light finally envelop the Chosen One’s hunched form. The young man had a life ahead of him, one which was riddled with obstacles and countless choices. It was worrying to see the darkness within the man’s soul, to be sure, but many ties also bound him to the light._

_‘Not all the pieces are on the board quite yet,’ he mused aloud._

_The light surged across Mortis even stronger, tearing away at the dark exterior until nothing remained but the brightness of a newborn star._

_It was time._

_‘I wish you well, Skywalker, for I now leave the galaxy in your hands’._

_‘Farewell.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE tell me if something is grammatically incorrect, inconsistent, etc. 
> 
> Thank you!
> 
> ~LazarusII


	7. Chapter 7 [Part 2] -The Hard Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to [Pandora151](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pandora151/pseuds/Pandora151) for joining me on this fic! Having another person to work with has just been amazing and a complete game-changer in terms of development. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy the chapter!
> 
> ~LazarusII

Rex didn’t know what to think. The Jedi ship had been a fast-approaching blip on their scanners, its occupants portrayed as three suspended blue-white forms on the holo-table, before disappearing into thin air. The ship had vanished without a trace, seeming to vaporize into nothingness–no hyperspace, no nothing; as for the holograms, well, the connection had cut out, cutting General Skywalker off mid-speech.

That in itself had been strange.

Beside him, Yularen pressed several buttons on the console, hoping to restore the link. Nothing.

Cody, who had been hanging back farther in the room, turned to the nearest navigator and asked, “What’s the status on their approach?”

The befuddled clone shook his head, gesturing with his hands to a completely clear navigation screen. Cody’s frown deepened, lines creasing in his forehead. Yularen cursed softly. They had just gotten out of a tough firefight not even ten hours ago and the rendezvous had been scheduled to align with a much-needed supply restock. If the Jedi were missing...it could mean serious problems with their next assignment, providing that it wasn’t just a sensor malfunction.

But Rex’s gut was twisting, telling him that there was more to it than just a simple computer glitch. He’d seen too much weird stuff in his life.

“Double check those readings,” Cody was saying to a tech, “I want those scanners checked again. Jedi don’t usually just disappear into thin air.”

"Captain!” Yularen had turned his gaze onto Rex who immediately jumped to attention, “I want a team out there on the double. We don’t have much time to just sit here and wait. We may have an hour or so before we need to make the jump to our supply station. I want eyes on the outside.”

“Yes, sir!” Rex saluted and made his way to the exit, nodding to Cody on the way out.

The clone Commander’s “good luck” followed him out the door.

||

The truth was that there really wasn’t anything to report. It was infuriating, to say the least. Rex closed his eyes, automatically shifting his helmet closer to his body from where he held it at his side. In front of him, Fives fidgeted slightly, gloved fingers softly tapping the pearly armor plating at his hip.

Around them, the usual commotion of the docking bay seemed oddly muted, as though it were some silly holo-drama with its volume turned all the way down. Technicians and dockworkers hustled to and fro, arms laden with an array of parts, datapads, and other pieces of equipment. The sheer normality of the atmosphere should have given Rex at least some comfort, but instead he found it oddly oppressing. Something just felt so _wrong_ about the whole thing. He tried to tell himself that he was overreacting.

But that didn’t change the fact that Fives stood before him, looking just as confused and worried as he felt, having just returned from the search party.

“And you’re sure you didn’t see _anything_ out of the ordinary?” Rex had to work to keep the impatience out of his voice.

  
Fives gestured wildly, a resigned expression pulling at the growing frown-lines in his face. “With all due respect, Sir, there was nothing out there to look at. What’s going on?”

Rex ran a hand through his short-cut hair. “Look, I don’t know what the hell is happening right now. None of us do. The General was close to the _Resolute_ when the ship disappeared and he would have informed us if he were going into hyperspace. Other than that, we’re down two Generals and a Commander, there’s not much else to say.”

He let out a frustrated huff.

Folding his arms, Fives fixed his gaze on the nearest ship—a standard Republic LAAT/c. “How are you going to explain this one?” He let out a bark of fake laughter, “the Jedi ship was swallowed by a giant sand cr—”

Rex shot the other clone a glare. He had to hand it to Fives, the man had at least tried to diffuse the tension a little bit. The smile which had somehow crept onto his face fell.

 _Time to report._

“We’d better report to the Admiral.” He hefted his helmet and began to move towards the exit. Behind him, he heard Fives hurrying to catch up, the sound of his footsteps soon swallowed by the organized chaos around them.

As they passed the stack of crates next to the doorway, several off-duty pilots stopped what they were doing in order to watch them pass by. Rex offered them a nod of greeting, but said nothing. Those men had been on the search party so it wasn’t exactly like he could give them any sort of news. Judging by their unmasked, hopeful faces, however, all of them were looking for some sign of good news.

_Sorry boys, but there isn’t any._

Rex had barely taken two steps into the corridor when he heard several alarmed shouts fill the air, followed by a loud _thud_. Pulling his helmet back over his face, he turned on the spot, nearly running into Fives. It was through pure habit that he found his twin DC-17s in hand, trained on the two figures who had materialized some fifty meters away, smack-dab in the middle of a group of surprised clone technicians. The clone pilots who had been seated by the door had all jumped to their feet, many of them slowly lowering their weapons to the ground.

General Kenobi looked up at him, eyes wide and desperate. He was kneeling on the ground, holding an unconscious Commander Tano in his arms. Both Jedi were covered in a strange layer of dust, similar to Geonosian sand, but the color wasn’t exactly the same. It had a harsh, darker texture, forming a thin film of dust about their feet.

“General Kenobi!” Rex exclaimed, forcing his feet to move forward, ignoring the surprised shouts of his men. His fingers grappled for his commlink as he typed a quick confirmation to the Admiral. Fives was right behind him, boots pounding loudly against the docking bay’s metallic floor.

The General shook his head as Rex approached. One of his hands was pressed against Tano’s temple. Now that he was closer to them, Rex could see a few bruises on the General’s face, while the Commander appeared to be mostly unharmed. But…

“She’s stable, but I can’t get her to wake up,” General Kenobi said, voice tight. “I...I’m not sure what happened.” Rex watched as he carefully lowered the Commander to the ground. He looked at Fives, then back at Rex, eyes shining with open confusion.

Before Rex could reply, Cody raced into the corridor, looking more relieved than Rex had ever seen him.

“I’ll call the medics for Commander Tano, Sir,” Rex said slowly. “Are you alright?”

General Kenobi didn’t exactly _look_ alright, though Rex couldn’t say why. The bruises would fade soon enough, but something told him that there was more, that the General was reeling from something he didn’t completely understand.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine, Captain,” Kenobi answered. He looked around the bay, at the crowd of pilots and technicians surrounding them. Then he closed his eyes for a moment. “Where is Anakin?” he asked, opening his eyes. He turned towards Rex with expectation.

Rex tilted his head, glancing at Cody, who now looked a bit more concerned than before. “Sir…” Rex said, “we thought General Skywalker was with you.” Only then did he realize that his own General was nowhere to be seen.

Kenobi frowned. He stood slowly, stumbling for a split-second before he regained his footing. Kenobi spun around, presumably scanning every single person in the bay. There was a strange sort of emotion flickering in his eyes; it wasn’t exactly panic, but more a deep-seated worry. To Rex, it was completely unfamiliar. Kenobi was always calm and steady, even during the more difficult missions, but now…

Now it seemed like something vital had changed.

“He was,” the General said slowly. “I thought…he’s not here?” He blinked owlishly before looking around again.

“We haven’t seen him, Sir,” Rex replied, the last of his short-lived enthusiasm dying into cold nothingness.

The General seemed dazed, fixing his glassy stare on the floor several meters from where the Commander lay. While he was here physically, it was clear that his mind was far, far away. 

_There’s definitely something going on,_ Rex thought, _I just wish I knew what it was…_

Even more than that, he just wanted to know what happened.

Cody shifted to glance at his commlink. “General, the medics are here. We can continue searching for General Skywalker after we take Commander Tano to the medbay,” he said.

To Rex, the next few minutes seemed to go by in a blur. The medics had come through, carefully lifting the Commander onto a stretcher before hurrying off to the medbay. General Kenobi followed them silently, his face blank. Rex and Cody followed him, exchanging quick worried looks.

_What exactly had happened out there?_

||

_She was drifting. Ahsoka felt warm, safer than she had been for a very long time. Slowly, she opened her eyes, barely registering Anakin sitting at her bedside, looking pensively out a nearby window. He looked very calm and relaxed, and the Light he projected into the Force was soothing to her frayed nerves._

_Ahsoka gasped and sat up, horrifying memories of the Geonosian parasites rushing back to her. Barriss had been infected, begging to be killed…the last thing Ahsoka remembered was being alone, fighting against something she didn’t understand. What ultimately happened to Barriss and the clones?_

_Anakin rushed over and knelt down next to her bedside, placing both hands on her shoulders. His blue eyes stared into hers, warm and welcoming as they always had been. “It’s alright, Ahsoka; it’s okay,” he soothed with a gentle smile. “You’re safe.”_

_The Force stirred._

_“Safe?” she echoed, a sinking feeling entering the pit of her stomach._

_Anakin didn’t reply, but rather continued smiling at her. The sight of it sent a shiver down her spine. The Force moved again, twisting uncomfortably in a way which seemed oddly familiar..._

_“What...what’s happening?” she asked._

_Anakin’s smile grew wider before he stood up, eyes reflecting the medbay’s bright lights. “You’ve only ever slowed me down, Ahsoka. But now?” He turned towards her, and Ahsoka’s heart plummeted._

_Anakin’s eyes were yellow, positively gleaming with a twisted mirth._

_“Master?” she whispered._

_“Now I’m free,” he hissed. “The Jedi are all gone, and you’re all that’s left, my little padawan.”_

_Ahsoka shook her head, the blankets bunching in her fingers as she backtracked, pressing herself against the cushions of the bed._

_The Jedi were...gone? “No,” she whispered, but the Force was bleeding, screaming into unfathomable darkness._

_“I killed them.” And her Master smiled again, yellow eyes shining. He held up an unfamiliar lightsaber hilt and ignited it, revealing a bleeding red blade that shrieked into the Force. Echoing screams filled her ears and her blood ran cold. The voices… they were crying for help… bloodcurdling shrieks of children…_

_No..._

_“And now it’s your turn,” Anakin whispered, his towering form advancing towards her. Ahsoka’s eyes were wide, her horrified face reflected in her Master’s corrupted gaze. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide—_

_Then the lightsaber was falling, a streak of scarlet rushing downwards until its hot blade finally met her skin…_

“No!”

Ahsoka opened her eyes, sitting bolt-upright with a gasp. Her heart pounded in her chest and she struggled for air, her mind racing to get her emotions under control.

_Calm. Need air..._

The effort seemed to only make it more difficult for her to breathe.

She distantly heard a voice shout before warm hands pressed onto her shoulders. Still shaking, her mind automatically leaped to her Master and she almost cried out before she realized that the face above her was of a clone.

“Commander, take some deep breaths for me, okay?” Kix’s voice was calm, but there was a sort of uncertainty in his eyes. Ahsoka forced herself to ignore that, choosing to instead focus on her breathing.

She looked around for a moment, realizing that she was in the _Resolute_ ’s medbay, of all places. Around her was the familiar white-paneled walls and many portable trays laiden with tools. It was so bright that it almost hurt. Tears sparked in her eyes as she shaded her face with the hand that was not connected to the monitor above her.

_There’s light here… I’m on the Resolute… Wait…_

Wasn’t she…?

“What...happened?” she gasped out. “I was, we were…” She trailed off, unsure of what to say.

Kix tilted his head. “It seems as though you just had some exhaustion, Sir. I’d suggest taking it easy for the next few hours,” he explained.

“But—”

The medbay doors slid open. Obi-Wan walked in slowly, his eyes shining. He looked exhausted, his shoulders hunched and his expression grim. As Ahsoka met his gaze, he hesitated, coming to a standstill.

Ahsoka’s heart began to race again. Everything around her seemed to mute. It was only her and her Grandmaster in the room now; nothing else mattered. She shivered, swallowing the emotion which somehow had gathered in her throat. Closing her eyes, she formed the words in her head before speaking, dreading the response yet to come.

“Where—where’s Anakin?”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And things will only get messier from here...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome back! We really enjoyed writing this chapter, and we hope you enjoy reading it too. Thanks!  
> ~Pandora

The General remained oddly quiet as they walked behind the stretcher. His eyes seemed to have a faraway look, as though he wasn’t focusing on much besides putting one foot in front of the other. Rex felt his stomach twist at the sight and fought the urge to stare. It was so uncharacteristic for the man that it seemed surreal. 

The medics guided the stretcher next to one of the beds before transferring Commander Tano over. Though she was still unconscious, Rex was sure she would be alright. There weren’t any noticeable bumps or bruises, piquing his curiosity even further. All of this just didn’t make sense.

Even as the medics began to check the Commander’s vitals, General Kenobi remained standing by the door, face blank.

“Looks like she’s stable, Sir,” Kix announced. Rex sighed in relief before glancing back towards the doorway. He barely caught sight of the General’s retreating back before the doors hissed shut.

“Excuse me, Kix,” Rex murmured. The clone medic glanced up at him and nodded, and Rex walked out of the door to follow Kenobi.

_What is going on?_

Rex spotted him walking down a corridor towards the nearest viewport. Even as he watched, Kenobi folded his arms, looking as though he was deep in thought. Cautiously, Rex moved to stand behind him.

“General Kenobi?” Rex asked after a few long moments, once he realized that the Jedi was not going to start any conversation. He suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable, as though he was intruding on Kenobi’s privacy in the worst way possible. Part of him wanted to turn around, to go back to the medbay and look after his Commander.

_It’s probably what I should be doing,_ he told himself.

The General turned around slowly. In that moment, it seemed as though the man had aged decades, the lines in his face cast deep into shadow by the external lighting of the _Resolute’s_ hull. His eyes were guarded, lined with exhaustion. “Yes, Captain?” he replied.

“Based on the scans, the medics say that Commander Tano will make a full recovery. She only had some mild bruising,” Rex said.

Kenobi nodded. “Thank you,” he said. “That is good news.”

Rex waited for Kenobi to say something else, but the Jedi remained silent. He opened his mouth and closed it, struggling to come up with something else to say. The silence was quickly becoming awkward.

Kenobi arched an eyebrow.

This was all too strange; Rex found himself unable to contain his curiosity. “If you don’t mind me asking, Sir, what happened?” he blurted.

When Kenobi didn’t immediately answer, Rex’s heart sank to his stomach. He was sure this was a major breach of protocol, but he found himself continuing anyways. The situation called for it. “Your ship disappeared off our scanners for a good while there,” he said.

Expression darkening immediately, Kenobi frowned. “Now _that_ is a question,” he said slowly. He paused and then sighed, closing his eyes. “There really isn’t a good way to explain it.”

_Right._

That made very little sense. Kenobi was very good with his words; Rex knew this firsthand. If he was unable to explain something, then whatever happened must have been extremely unusual. And for something to rattle Kenobi _this_ much…

Whatever happened while the Jedi were away must have been _terrible_.

“Understood, Sir...” Rex said finally, unable to come up with anything else to say. 

The General’s closed eyes squeezed slightly before he rubbed the bridge of his nose. Rex could see the shadows under his eyes, the gauntness of his face, emphasized by the fading bruises. A moment passed before Kenobi pulled his hand away and opened his eyes.

“Sir, are you sure you’re alright?” Rex asked again. Kenobi was very good at directing the attention away from himself, especially when sick or injured. This could easily be another one of those situations, but there was no way of knowing that for sure right at this moment.

“Yes, yes; I’m fine, Captain,” Kenobi answered quickly, giving him a grim smile. “There’s no need to worry.”

_There’s every need to worry_ , Rex thought sourly, but he knew that pursuing the topic any further would get him nowhere. Kenobi could be so incredibly stubborn sometimes.

“Very well, Sir,” he said. His commlink beeped, and he glanced down at it to see a message from Kix. “It looks like the Commander has woken up,” he said.

Kenobi muttered something under his breath that Rex couldn’t catch.

“Should we head back to the medbay, Sir?” Rex asked, pretending not to notice.

Kenobi nodded and gestured for Rex to lead the way. “After you.”

Rex took a breath, pushing his uncertainty down and away, before turning around and walking back to the medbay, the General’s quiet footsteps echoing behind him.

||

Obi-Wan didn’t really want to be anywhere near the medbay if he was being honest with himself.

Unfortunately, being honest with himself would only get him so far, especially in these situations. He had to tell Ahsoka, Anakin’s _Padawan_ , what happened. He had to tell the Admiral and his men what happened. Worst of all, he would have to tell the Council what happened on Mortis.

Of course, there was also the question of what exactly he _should_ tell the Council about Mortis.

But now wasn’t the time for him to be thinking about any of that. Now, he had to walk into the medbay and tell his Grandpadawan the exact opposite of what he wanted to say and what she wanted to hear. Now, he would have to bring even more grief and despair into her life.

As he walked closer to the medbay, Obi-Wan could hear voices filtering out through its sealed doors, loud and frantic.

“...down, Sir, _please_!”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and took a breath, desperately pushing away the headache brewing behind his eyes. He could feel Rex’s Force presence standing behind him, quiet, but observant. His worry filled the Force, despite Obi-Wan’s efforts to reassure him.

He was _fine_.

More muffled voices, then he heard Ahsoka speak, gasping. Her panic was pounding against his shields, traveling along their light bond like small shocks of electricity.

“What...happened?” he heard her ask, voice muffled. “I was, we were…”

_She’s scared, frantic, confused… At her age, I can’t say that I blame her._

Obi-Wan opened his eyes. He needed to go in and speak to her. There was no avoiding it, as much as he wished to go somewhere else, _anywhere_ else.

With another deep breath, he reached for the button next to the door and pressed it. The door hissed open, and he walked slowly inside. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rex halt outside the medbay, near the corridor entrance.

_Here goes nothing._

Ahsoka’s head jerked up and she closed her mouth, looking as though he’d interrupted her mid-sentence. She was sitting up, attached to a monitor that displayed her vitals, and staring at him as though her life depended on whatever he said.

Well, if he thought about it, that was true, as much as he wished otherwise.

Ahsoka shivered and closed her eyes, and Obi-Wan wanted nothing more than to run out of the medbay, away from all of this. Every muscle in his body was exhausted, dragged down by his duty. But he had little choice in the matter.

“Where’s—where’s Anakin?”

Ahsoka’s voice trembled as she spoke, easily revealing the panic that still consumed her. What was he supposed to say? He didn’t—he _really_ didn’t want to do this.

Obi-Wan exhaled. “Ahsoka,” he began, keeping his voice soft and quiet. “I need you to calm down.”

His voice seemed to echo loudly through the medbay. Kix remained standing at Ahsoka’s bedside, not quite moving away, but trying to make it look like he wasn’t listening to the conversation. In fact, all of the medics in the room were trying to look like they weren’t listening, even though it was obvious that they were.

Ahsoka reeled forwards, prompting Kix to place a gentle hand on her arm. She brushed it off, pushing herself off the headboard of the bed with shaking arms. Obi-Wan took a few steps forward.

“Why?” she asked. “Where _is_ he?”

Obi-Wan swallowed. What _should_ he even tell her? That Anakin Skywalker, his former Padawan and her Master, was missing and possibly even dead? That he was alive and overtaken by the Dark Side? There were no clear answers, _none_. He knew all too well the pain of losing a Master and the devastation that followed. Ahsoka didn’t deserve to face that kind of pain, not now and not like this.

“Ahsoka,” he managed, voice drying up in his throat. He swallowed again, feeling his heart beginning to race in his chest.

 _Calm_. He needed to stay calm, for Ahsoka, and for his men.

_And for my own sanity._

The door hissed open again, revealing Rex. The captain immediately walked to Ahsoka’s other side, leaving Obi-Wan standing alone at the foot of the bed.

“Master Kenobi, he’s my Master!” Ahsoka exclaimed frustratedly, reaching forward as though she wanted to rise from the bed.

“Commander, you really shouldn’t be walking right now,” Kix said softly, placing both hands on Ahsoka’s shoulders. She struggled in his grip to get up, ignoring him. 

Obi-Wan sighed. He took a few more steps and sat down at the corner of Ahsoka’s bed. He rubbed at the bridge of his nose, trying to ignore the pounding in his skull. “I…” he began, struggling to come up with something to say.

Ahsoka paused, eyes narrowing. “Master?” she asked, voice tense. Kix continued to hold her down, but she stopped resisting, staring at Obi-Wan with barely-concealed worry in her eyes.

Obi-Wan moved his hand away from his face and placed it on his lap. “Ahsoka,” he said, and swallowed down the emotion rising up his chest into his throat. He forced himself to speak, looking directly at his Grandpadawan. “Ahsoka, Anakin is missing. He didn’t come back with us.”

Silence.

Ahsoka stared at him for what felt like a long time. The medics in the room fell completely silent, no longer hiding their curiosity. Obi-Wan forced himself to ignore their stares, focusing instead on Ahsoka, who didn’t seem to notice them at all.

After a long pause, Ahsoka released a heavy sigh and leaned back into her pillows, looking up at Obi-Wan expectantly. Kix released his grip on her shoulders and took a few steps back, averting his gaze.

“The men have been searching for him for about an hour now. They haven’t found anything,” Obi-Wan said thickly. “We...we should prepare for the worst, Ahsoka.”

Ahsoka closed her eyes, her lips tightening. Though her breathing became ragged, she remained silent.

_She’s grieving._

“Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan managed, desperation clawing its way into the pit of his stomach, “please say something.” 

_Please_.

He expected her to lash out, or to be upset at the very least, but this? This was worse, so much worse.

Ahsoka exhaled and opened her eyes. “I…” she began, looking directly at Obi-Wan with a strange emotion in her eyes. “I think I need some space, Master Kenobi.”

Oh. _Oh_.

“Sure, Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan replied, ignoring the foreign emotions crawling up into his chest again, almost painfully. He forced himself to breathe through that pain.

A moment passed, then Obi-Wan slowly stood up and walked away. He walked past Rex, who smiled reassuringly at Ahsoka before patting her head. Obi-Wan turned his head away at the sight, walking quickly towards the medbay’s doors and exiting the room.

The hallway that stretched in front of him seemed much longer than it had just minutes ago when he was walking to the medbay with Rex. Obi-Wan took a deep breath and rushed towards the viewport where he’d stood before, staring out at the stars.

Once he reached the viewport, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply. The emotion, the _hurt_...he couldn’t have that now. He was a Jedi. He needed to be strong; he needed...

“Sir?”

Obi-Wan opened his eyes. Rex stood in front of him, eyes bright and worried. Obi-Wan didn’t realize that the Captain had followed him out of the medbay, but now that he thought about it, it wasn’t really that surprising.

“I…” Obi-Wan began, trailing off. He took a deep breath, pushing the emotion down and away, almost violently. “I assume Admiral Yularen is on the bridge?” he asked finally.

Rex nodded. “Yes, Sir,” he replied.

“I’ll go speak to him now,” Obi-Wan said, nodding. “Thank you, Rex.”

“Of course, Sir,” the clone replied. He looked as though he wanted to say something else, but Obi-Wan abruptly turned away and walked back down the corridor before Rex had a chance to respond.

Obi-Wan didn’t even notice when his feet carried past the medbay doors and to the nearest lift. All he could think about was how to explain what had happened, and what he had to do. Slowly but surely, his feet carried him up through the ship and towards the bridge, away from his failures.

||

Patience had never been Ahsoka’s strong suit. Having been released from the medbay that morning, she’d taken up roaming the corridors. A stroll always had helped her in the past, clearing her mind and letting her take a breath while feeling involved. Apparently, the walks didn’t always do the trick. After setting foot out of the medbay, she’d counted three hours of non-stop walking, and it hadn’t done anything to calm her nerves.

Anakin was gone, just… _gone_. How the _kriffing_ hell was she supposed to react? Every bone in her body desperately wanted him to be alive and well, and she hoped that this was all some sort of practical joke on his part. Then reality would suddenly come back to bite her.

And, like all realizations, the memories followed, dragging her mind back down into the darkness of Mortis. Again and again, she watched her Master as he advanced towards her, his lightsaber raised as though to strike…

Then there had been her dream, something that shouldn’t be real, but had felt closer to reality than their confrontation two days on Mortis.

_And now he’s gone_ …

She struggled to swallow her emotion again, realizing that she might not have a Master anymore. Her heart took control once more as she followed the path of the vicious cycle.

_Anakin Skywalker is my Master and he is coming back; he’s alive and well._

_He is coming back. He has to come back._

_Please._

The hours had blurred together, melding into a haze that did not break until she found the other source of her problems.

Obi-Wan Kenobi was a living, breathing reminder of Anakin Skywalker and it _hurt_.

As soon as he had entered the medbay yesterday, Obi-Wan had seemed oddly withdrawn, his mental shields drawn in so tight that he was almost invisible. He had seemed to be exactly the figure that she’d thought him to be all those years ago as a youngling: cold and evasive towards all conversation. That had been until she’d asked him where Anakin was. Then, the facade had shattered into a million pieces.

Never before had Ahsoka wanted her Master more than right then and there. Anakin had always believed in Obi-Wan, trusted him, even put his faith in his former Master’s ability to ‘make things right.’ Instead, Obi-Wan had essentially told her to believe that her Master was dead—right to her face. He’d asked her to calm down as though it were a simple flick of a switch from one emotion to none. He’d asked her to do the impossible…

_But is Anakin dead?_

Ahsoka felt as though her insides were being boiled, roasted, and wrung out like a washcloth. A Jedi wasn’t supposed to feel emotion. No, they were _supposed_ to be like Obi-Wan, cold and withdrawn, watching things unfold before them with their emotions holed up and tossed aside.

The only time she’d stopped her pacing had been when her feet had somehow taken her all the way to the very end of the main hangar and its massive array of supply crates. The lighting wasn’t as great down there: the nearest ones being the long strips in the ceiling close to a hundred feet above. It was a nice, private area in comparison to the rest of the ship—other than her own quarters—and Ahsoka was tempted to take a seat on one of the nearby crates before realizing that she wasn’t alone.

It was there that she’d found Obi-Wan, seated with his back to her, hidden in one of the darkest places of the entire hangar. Her first instinct had been to approach him and ask what was wrong, but something caused her to hesitate. Instead, she quietly hid behind a nearby oil drum and watched, tugging her mental shields back down over her thoughts. For a horrible moment, she thought he’d sensed her. In her mind’s eye, she saw her Grandmaster turning, his piercing blue eyes boring into her skull.

But Obi-Wan hadn’t sensed her at all. On the contrary, he was rather open in the Force, his feelings and thoughts laid bare.

Ahsoka closed her eyes, exhaling as she forced down her emotions with an iron fist. She did _not_ want to talk with anyone, least of all Obi-Wan at the moment…but his presence was oddly comforting.

For a few minutes, Ahsoka found herself floating, riding the fine line between meditation and reality. For the first time that day, she was able to relax. Obi-Wan’s presence seemed to fade from her mind as she worked to calm her nerves.

Her calm, however, shattered rather abruptly as the Force shifted nearby. Ahsoka withdrew from the Force and held her breath. Had she been hallucinating?

Cautiously, Ahsoka glanced over the oil drum once more to stare at the still form of her Grandmaster. He was always so stoic and strong, collected and calm as a Jedi Councillor should be.

It didn’t seem that way now. His face was blank, as it always was. In the Force, however, there was guilt, there was distress, and there was a sorrow that ran deeper than Ahsoka had ever realized. Obi-Wan’s emotions mirrored her own, and she hadn’t realized it until now.

Guilt twisted in her stomach as she realized that he was feeling almost the same way that she did. Part of her wanted to run to him, to start speaking to her Grandmaster again and to just _fix_ this strange impasse that had come between them. The other part of her recoiled at the idea, remembering that he told her that Anakin was most likely dead; that Obi-Wan was cold and distant... emotionless.

Well, he certainly didn’t seem emotionless at the moment.

Obi-Wan’s feelings flowed out into the Force like a sonic charge, painful and _terrible_. It made her feel even more conflicted than before. What was she supposed to do?

Ahsoka breathed out silently. She couldn’t deal with this—not now. Carefully, she pulled away from the oil drum and slipped towards the hangar’s exit, leaving Obi-Wan to sit alone in the darkness. Behind her, the Force cried silently, forming a sad halo about his presence.

She fought to ignore the quiet misery all the way back to her quarters, turning her head to the way that it slid into the Force and permeated the very air. Her mind, in fact, was so preoccupied, that it didn’t even register when the terrible sorrow dissipated over the distance. The Force, once again, was quiet, as though the misery was never there in the first place.

Once Ahsoka arrived at her quarters, she seated herself on her bunk, eyes fixed at the wall across from her. She didn’t know what to think anymore. Anakin couldn’t be dead; it was _impossible_. He was her Master. He wouldn’t leave her behind like this.

Obi-Wan didn’t know what he was talking about. He was wrong; he _had_ to be wrong. Anakin was probably hiding somewhere, waiting until the right moment to come in and surprise them. She was sure of it. It was only a matter of time.

Sighing, Ahsoka leaning back against the bunk. She wasn’t tired, but she really didn’t want to do _anything_ right at the moment. More than anything, she just wanted Anakin to be here now; he was the one who brought their lineage together. Without him, it felt as though she and Obi-Wan were cast off in opposite directions, like strangers.

_Help me, Master, please come back…please...I need you._

With that thought, a knock sounded at her door.

“Ahsoka, may I come in?” Obi-Wan’s muffled voice filtered through the overhead speaker.

Ahsoka wondered if she could just pretend that she wasn’t in the room. Maybe he would give up and look for her somewhere else? It was unlikely, considering that Obi-Wan probably came here once he picked up her Force presence. It only made sense.

“Come in,” she called, her voice slightly hoarse. She sat up properly on the bunk and clasped her hands in her lap.

The door hissed open and Obi-Wan walked in. Compared to earlier, he looked slightly more alive. His posture had improved, for one thing, and he no longer looked as though he was about to keel over onto the floor. What she noticed more than anything else, however, was his presence. In the Force, she could barely feel him, despite their proximity. Obi-Wan was shielding himself from her—and very well at that. She smothered a small spike of irritation as she realized that her Grandmaster could shield so much better than she could.

 _One day I’ll get there,_ she told herself.

“Ahsoka,” he greeted with a nod. “I’m glad to see that you’re better.”

Better? Physically, perhaps, but inside she was reeling. She didn’t know how to feel, how to react to all of this. She was confused, feeling as though she was cast off, _abandoned_.

“Thanks,” she replied, unsure of what else to say.

“I just spoke with the Council,” Obi-Wan continued. He sighed and ran a hand over his face. She then saw the faded bruises littering his face, much like her own.

_Why didn’t I see them earlier?_

“Ahsoka, they want us to return to Coruscant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! As always, please let us know what you think; comments really mean the world to us :)
> 
> The next chapter will be up next Saturday (and it's quite the ride, if I'm being honest)
> 
> Thanks again!
> 
> ~Pandora


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long chapter filled with, well, I won't spoil it :P
> 
> ~Lazarus II

_“Ahsoka, they want us to return to Coruscant.”_

Ahsoka recoiled as if she’d been burned. “No, we can’t!” she exclaimed, voice shaking with intensity. “We can’t leave Anakin behind!”

Exhaling, Obi-Wan pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes squeezed shut. “Ahsoka—”

“No,” she interrupted, narrowing her eyes. “I’m not going back. You can’t _make_ me go back. He’s my Master.”

Watching Obi-Wan was difficult; she desperately wanted him to agree with her. He was Anakin’s _Master_ , for kriff’s sake. But her Grandmaster’s face was impassive, his presence practically invisible.

Seconds seemed to stretch into hours as she watched Obi-Wan think. Even as she watched, he was so still that for a moment, she wondered if he was even breathing. Finally, he exhaled, breaking the spell.

“Ahsoka, please; they need to speak to the both of us—”

 _I knew it._ Her frustration gave way to pure unadulterated rage, spilling through the cracks in her self-control and exploding outwards. The feeling felt dirty to her, as though she had just run herself through a pool of wet mud, but she didn’t care. 

Ahsoka shot up to her feet, fire burning in her eyes. “You don’t think he’s alive, don’t you? So why leave him? Do you even _care_ , Master Kenobi?”

Her Grandmaster stared at her again, as though he was at a loss for words, shock painted in his eyes. It was a reaction, _at least_. A few moments passed, then he sighed heavily. “Ahsoka, if Anakin was here, don’t you think we would have found him by now? Or that he would have returned to the ship on his own?”

“He could be hurt, Master. That might be why he hasn’t returned! We can’t just leave him behind!” Ahsoka exclaimed. Tears burned in her eyes, and she rubbed at them furiously, gritting her teeth against the building emotion in her chest. “He wouldn’t leave either of us behind, you _know_ that!”

“Please, Ahsoka. The Council—”

“I don’t _care_ about the kriffing Council!” Ahsoka screamed, voice cracking. “I don’t care about what they think or say. You—he’s _your_ Padawan!” She fumbled for words, biting down another barrage of curses. “How could you stand there and tell me that we should just leave him to die? What kind of a person _are_ you?”

Obi-Wan shifted, his face still blank, almost lifeless in appearance…It was as though her words had just bounced off of him, not having any effect whatsoever—even his eyes seemed hollow and listless. The sight of it angered her even more.

“You’ve known him for what, ten years? _More_ than that? And now you just want to leave him behind? Does he even mean anything to you?” Ahsoka spat. The Force trembled dangerously as she spoke.

Obi-Wan exhaled. “We have to meet with the Council once we return to Coru—”

 _“I’m not leaving him!”_ Ahsoka roared, eyes flashing dangerously. Now, there was no stopping the tears spilling from her eyes.

She _hated_ his control, the way that he looked at her with sadness without feeling any of it himself. More than that, she hated her own loss of balance. Every moment, she was being torn in half by memories, and he was just _standing_ there like a karking machine, judging her every action.

Obi-Wan’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t have a choice, Ahsoka. We’re going into hyperspace once I get back to the bridge,” he said.

Ahsoka shook her head. “I’m not leaving him,” she repeated, voice trembling. “You can’t tell me what to do. I’ll stay here; I’ll take one of the ships and keep searching for him. He _has_ to be somewhere around here. I’m sure of it.”

Her Grandmaster’s eyes flashed for a split-second. 

“Ahsoka,” he said, voice dangerously quiet. “You _will_ stay on the _Resolute_ when it goes into hyperspace and return back to the Temple immediately. The Council has asked to meet with us the moment we return—and you _will_ be there.”

Feeling a snarl building, she opened her mouth to reply, “I—”

Suddenly, Obi-Wan seemed to loom above her, his eyes blazing with an ice-cold flame. “That is an _order_.”

As he spoke, the temperature in the room seemed to drop. Ahsoka couldn’t help but take a step back. She’d never seen Obi-Wan so angry before. Part of her knew that he was right and that she should be going home… but how could she leave Anakin behind? And how could he just stand there and give up on Anakin like that? 

She knew that it was now far too late for her to back down. Her heart twisted, and she was sorely tempted to yell.

“I…I _hate_ you,” she hissed instead, spinning around to slam her hand on the button next to her door. As soon as the door slid open, she ran out, leaving Obi-Wan alone with what remained of her shattered soul.

  
||

Walking into the bridge, Cody shivered.

It was _cold_. Colder than usual. The bridge was never like this; there was always so much activity, so much commotion, that there was always a sense of warmth on the _Resolute_ ’s bridge.

He shivered again, looking around. The bridge was quieter than usual; Admiral Yularen stood off to the side, discussing schematics with a few clone technicians. Near the viewport, the pilots began preparing the ship for its jump to hyperspace, their fingers dancing over the ship’s controls.

All seemed to be in order… for now, at least.

Cody turned away and spotted his General sitting near a holomap towards the back of the bridge, almost tucked away in the corner. Kenobi looked withdrawn; the dim blue light of the holographic images cast shadows onto his face, making him look as though he’d aged decades in the past few days. Cody wouldn’t be surprised if he felt like that, too.

Cody took a deep breath and slowly walked over to his General. Kenobi was turned away from him, staring pensively at the holomap, but his gaze was glassy, as though his mind was far, far away. 

“General Kenobi,” Cody said gently, studying the Jedi’s face as he spoke.

Kenobi turned towards him. His eyes were dull, that awful grey that Cody knew meant that he was completely exhausted. His shoulders were slumped, not noticeably obvious, but Cody knew the man well enough to be worried.

“Ah, Cody,” Kenobi replied in greeting, voice soft. Rather than continuing, as Cody had hoped he would, the man continued to stare out the nearest viewport, unseeing.

Silence.

“Sir…I wanted to ask what you wanted us to do once we reached Coruscant,” Cody said once he realized that the General wasn’t going to say anything more.

Kenobi had always been reserved as a person, outright quiet compared to Skywalker, but now it seemed that he had drawn within himself even more than usual. It was worrying, to say the least.

The General finally moved, disengaging his eyes from space and returning to the present. He stroked his beard before replying. “That is a good question,” he said at last. “I imagine you’ll have some time off while…while we sort out this mess, but we’ll have to wait and see what the Council decides.”

Cody nodded, straining to put a smile on his face. “Very good, Sir. I’m sure the men will appreciate a break.”

Kenobi returned it, but it was one of those smiles he gave to people when he wanted to draw the attention away from himself—a fake.

“Also, I wanted to ask how Commander Tano was doing,” Cody continued.

Kenobi hesitated. For a split-second, his lips pressed together, as though he was deep in thought.

“She’s doing fine,” he said finally, but his tone seemed to say otherwise.

_That’s all he’s going to say?_

Kenobi was a man of words; normally he would have said more about the Commander’s health, about how she was responding to Skywalker’s disappearance. This was just as concerning. Sure, he was withdrawn, but at least he would share more under normal circumstances. Cody hummed in acknowledgment, keeping his reservations to himself. But would the General lie to him?

A part of him wondered if the Commander truly was fine. He’d have to speak to her and find out.

“That’s good to hear, Sir,” Cody said, deciding not to press the topic any further.

Nodding, Kenobi shifted back towards the holomap, staring once again into nothingness.

Cody resisted the urge to fidget. Conversations with his General were usually never this awkward. “I’ll check back in with you once we approach Coruscant, Sir,” he said, once again hoping to draw Kenobi out of his thoughts.

It didn’t work.

The General only nodded, still staring into space.

Cody opened his mouth and then closed it, confused, unsure of what to do or say.

Almost on cue, Kenobi turned towards him again with a raised eyebrow. “Is something wrong, Cody?”

 _Yes_ , he wanted to say. _You’re—you’re not alright, Sir_.

Instead, he shook his head. “Uh—no, Sir. I’ll be on my way, then,” he replied.

His General nodded again and, for what felt like the thousandth time in the last few minutes, shifted his gaze towards the air.

Limbs heavy, Cody turned away, pulling his helmet closer to his side before making his exit from the bridge.

  
He walked out of the bridge, immediately noticing that it was considerably warmer out in the corridor. Cody contemplated going back to his quarters to start working on the growing pile of reports and forms on his desk, but then his stomach growled.

“Food,” he murmured. 

  
When he arrived at the mess hall, he found it almost completely deserted, the lights dimmed during the night cycle. In the far corner he saw two figures seated next to each other. They talked quietly, heads bent away from him.

Approaching, he realized that it was Rex and Commander Tano. Rex had a hand placed on the Commander’s shoulder, and he was speaking to her in a soft, gentle voice. Tano, however, was trembling, hands covering her face.

She did _not_ look fine, unlike General Kenobi had claimed. 

_Kriff, what happened?_

As Cody walked up to the table, he heard Rex say, “Just take a few deep breaths, Commander.”

Tano struggled to breathe, her breaths hitching. Her face was blotchy from the tears and fading bruises, her eyes were red, and her hands trembled violently, as though she couldn’t make them stop.

“I’m just—how could he _say_ that?” she asked. Her voice was raspy, rendered hoarse from crying. Cody suppressed a wince at the sound of it.

Cody reached the table by the time she finished speaking. Realizing that they did not see him yet, he cleared his throat. Rex and Tano looked up at him immediately, eyes wide.

Taking a deep breath, he sat quietly across from them, placing his helmet on the table. “Apologies for the intrusion,” he said softly.

Tano shook her head, rubbing at her eyes with the back of her right hand. “It’s fine,” she mumbled.

_I knew it._

“Commander, is everything alright?” Cody inquired gently. Being direct with Kenobi never worked, but with Commander Tano, it was a bit simpler to get her to open up when needed.

Tano sniffled. “I…” she began, glancing at Rex, hesitating

“Don’t worry, Commander, anything we say here will stay between the three of us,” Cody assured her. “You don’t even need to tell me anything…if you don’t want to.”

She took an uneven breath. “I just—I just feel like we shouldn’t be leaving Anakin behind,” she blurted. “I _told_ Master Kenobi, and…” Her breath hitched and she whimpered, pressing the heels of her palms to her face before she spoke, voice muffled. “And he told me that...that…”

Rex shifted. “The General was contacted by the Jedi Council, and they ordered us to return. _All_ of us,” he emphasized.

Sighing, Cody fiddled with his helmet. This wasn’t news to him. General Kenobi told him as soon as he received the message. Although he appreciated having time off and getting to return to Coruscant, he’d expected the Council to give them more time. He felt a stab of pity for the young Commander; it didn’t seem fair to him either that they were being recalled so soon.

And good soldiers follow orders.

“They’re not giving us much time to search. It’s…odd,” he admitted, shaking his head. He felt as though there was something else, like something didn’t add up.

The Commander’s eyes narrowed. “They don’t _care_ about him!” she exclaimed, slamming her hands on the table. “And neither does Master Kenobi.”

_What?_

Cody let out a bark of laughter, ignoring the incredulous stares of his two companions.

“With all due respect, the General isn’t happy about this, _any_ of it,” he explained. “I know that for a fact.” Kenobi’s actions on the bridge were telling enough. He had been quiet, barely responsive, and withdrawn. That much had been obvious.

Rex nodded, eyes lighting up with a realization. “He wasn’t acting much like himself earlier, after you spoke to him in the medbay, Ahsoka,” he said.

The Commander sniffed. “But...but you should’ve _seen_ him just now…he got _so_ angry…” She closed her eyes as a few more tears slipped down her cheeks.

Cody glanced at Rex, who was staring back at him, looking exactly the same way he felt.

_She managed to set off the General? That’s impressive._

Cody hadn’t ever managed to do that, or even _heard_ of any of his men or Jedi doing that. _Maybe Skywalker…?_ He’d seen Kenobi disturbed, annoyed, tired, and even speechless, but not furious. He’d heard whispered rumors of the General being ruthless with his enemies when necessary, but nothing beyond that.

Before Cody could reply, his commlink beeped. He sighed and glared at it, mentally cursing the timing. So much for getting a break before reaching Coruscant. “Looks like I’m needed in the main hangar,” he commented.

Cody got to his feet, grabbing his helmet before turning towards Tano. “Commander, I know that you’re upset, but Kenobi means well. You know that,” he said softly, hoping that Tano would understand, that this would be enough to bridge the gap that had come between the two Jedi.

The Commander let out a few sniffles, but she didn’t reply.

Rex reached forward again, placing a hand on her shoulder. “It’s going to be alright, Ahsoka,” he said gently. “You’ll see.”

She nodded slowly, rubbing at her eyes again. Cody could still see the despair, the confusion in her eyes, but at least she wasn’t sobbing like she was before.

“Thanks, Rex, Cody,” she murmured softly.

Cody nodded, turning on his heel before making his way back down to the hangar.

||  


The shuttle’s engines hummed softly under Ahsoka’s feet. Standing in one of the empty crew quarters, she stared at herself in the mirror. Wreathed in shadows, the lines in her face thrown into sharp contrast, she seemed to have aged years. Was it strange that she could no longer recognize herself?

On the battlefield, she felt so strong, so powerful… But in the mirror, she only saw the narrow shoulders and fragile build. Her thin frame now seemed skeletal and weak.

In light of Anakin’s disappearance, she hadn’t been able to sleep, waking in the middle of the night to terrible nightmares that she could never remember. The only thing that persisted was the dread that gnawed in the back of her mind, riding the waves of guilt that weighed down her soul.

_I’m sorry, Master._

Ahsoka looked back up at the mirror, keenly aware of the thin, shimmering line dragging down from her left eye down to her nose. She cursed herself as she rubbed away the weakness with her gloved hand.

_You are a Jedi, Ahsoka._

The shuttle’s deck shuttered and she let the mental shields lockdown, withdrawing behind the transparent walls and back into her mind. A sigh escaped her lips as the comlink on her arm bleeped.

_“Ahsoka. Ahsoka, come in.”_

That would be her Grandmaster. A part of her had hoped it would be _anyone_ but him. Since the argument, almost exactly one day ago, they had not spoken to one another. And for good reason. He hadn’t seemed too inclined to speak to her and she didn’t think she could mentally take the strain of having another conversation with him. So, she maintained silence.

Twice, Obi-Wan had called her in the last few hours. And twice, she’d found an excuse to ignore his call. Sure, it was childish and irresponsible, but what was she supposed to say? Obi-Wan and the Council had already made their choice to leave, abandoning all hopes of a search-party for the knowledge of what happened on some karking planet.

It wasn’t fair.

A part of her had almost abandoned ship after she’d left Obi-Wan in her quarters. She had even walked onto the flight deck and stared at the shuttle with half a mind to depart that second. Only the smallest voice in the back of her head had stayed her hand. It had whispered all the things that her Grandmaster had instructed her to do. She hated the irony of that, the fact that in the end, it was Obi-Wan’s lessons that kept her from running away.

_“Ahsoka?”_

Obi-Wan’s voice sounded pleading, and she mentally scoffed. That was the most emotion she’d heard in his voice in the last two days. He was cold, unrelenting, and apathetic.

Still, out of a sense of duty, she raised her forearm to eye level and tapped the communicator.

“Yes, Master?” she asked, keeping her voice flat.

_“We’ve landed. The council has not yet given me a time for the meeting—but I expect that they will get back to me soon. I exp—”_

“Understood, Master.” Ahsoka cut him off, exasperated, she just wanted to get out of the shuttle. Hell, she wanted to be done with all of this.

Silence.

Knowing it was rude, knowing that she would be deliberately provoking her Grandmaster, Ahsoka let her finger hover above the button of her communicator. It would be so easy, so _kriffing_ easy to be alone again. Just a simple tap and she could think for herself. Then Obi-Wan’s voice filled the air again and she let her hand fall away.

 _“Ahsoka…I know this has been a really difficult past few days for you.”_ A lump rose in the back of her throat and she swallowed a sob. Instead, a dry laugh burst from within her.

_‘Difficult?’ That’s an understatement._

_“Please get some rest until the meeting.”_ Obi-Wan’s voice sounded flat and monotonic, but she felt a faint worry echoing through the Force. The lump in her throat was suffocating to the point that she was practically gasping for air.

_“...Kenobi out.”_

With a _click_ , her commlink fell silent.

Her arms dropped to her side and she stared at the ceiling, grappling with the dozen rogue emotions battling in her mind. It was too much… _everything_ was too much.

The following minutes seemed blurred as though someone had tampered with time, turning it into overdrive. Ahsoka vaguely remembered walking back into the small cargo bay of the shuttle, her cloak held tightly about herself, the hood pulled low over her eyes. Obi-Wan had been there, waiting patiently at the bottom of the ramp, deep in conversation with Master Plo.

As Ahsoka had made her exit, her Grandmaster had called out to her.

“Ahsoka, wait!”

In hindsight, she would’ve listened, but Master Plo was there along with all the Temple dockworkers.

_No, I can’t take it anymore._

Her heart pounding, Ahsoka fled, practically sprinting to the nearest set of doors. The last thing she felt of her Grandmaster was the unrepressed sadness that haunted her all the way to the Temple gardens.

The gardens were beautiful, a magnificent combination of exotic plants and aquatics, all thrown together onto an overlook of the Coruscant skyline. Ahsoka was pretty sure that it was one of the greenest places on the city-bound planet. Just thinking about the many levels of stinking sewers and industry made her so much more appreciative of the green plantains and trees that the Temple kept.

As Ahsoka stepped into the large expanse of greenery, she took in the reddening, twilight sun glittering between the highest tree branches and the highlights it threw onto the white panels of the Temple far above. The sweet scent of fresh water and flowers met her nose and she breathed in deeply, hoping that it would wash away all her pain.

It didn’t.

Suddenly the tall trees, the bushes, and flowers seemed _too_ close, _too_ claustrophobic. Ahsoka gulped and plunged down the nearest path, pulling her cloak even closer around her frame. She brushed past several meditating Jedi as well as a class of younglings—all of whom ignored her.

During the years she spent living at the Temple, she’d found a hiding place that she liked to call her own, tucked away in the far corner of the garden. It was nothing special, just a hollow hidden behind a large willow tree, surrounded by ferns. Of all the locations in the Temple garden, it wasn’t necessarily the most private, but it certainly felt that way.

So it was with a great wave of relief that Ahsoka lowered herself into the small hollow, sighing deeply as she leaned herself against the bulk of the willow tree. Closing her eyes, she worked to even her breathing before letting her shields peel back, layer by layer. Emotions choked her every now and then, constricting her lungs and chest, and sending her heartbeat awry, but with each passing minute she felt her self-control build itself back up.

She had just begun to even herself out in the Force when the soft padding of boots met her ears. On the main path and near the waterfall, it was not uncommon to get a fair amount of foot-traffic, but here in the farthest corner of the gardens?

Slowly, she opened her eyes, not even twitching as a shadow fell across her from above. She knew _exactly_ who it was…and she wasn’t too thrilled about it.

“Ahsoka, there you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

It was Obi-Wan, of _course_ it was Obi-Wan.

Disconnecting herself from the Force gently, she pulled her mind back within the confines of her shield before looking up at him.

“Yes, Master?” The words were not meant to come out harshly, but they left her tongue bitter and reproachful. Deep inside her, something twisted horribly, pulling together a new ball of guilt.

Obi-Wan, however, didn’t seem to take offense. “There’s something that we need to discuss.” He hesitated, gesturing to the other end of the hollow. “May I come in?”

Her gut wrenching, she nodded and pulled herself closer to the tree, making more room. The hollow wasn’t that small. In reality, it was just the right size for two adults to comfortably meditate together while maintaining a respectable distance.

Gracefully, Obi-Wan settled himself down, opposite of Ahsoka, folding his hands in his lap. The light from the sunset reflected onto his face, illuminating small sections of his hair a fire-red.

For a moment he was silent, then…“How are you?”

Ahsoka thought about how she should respond, but could only shrug. “Master…how _should_ I be right now?”

He let out a long breath. “If it was anything like when I lost my Master, then not very well.”

Irritation wormed its way inside of her and she battled it back down. Anakin _wasn’t_ dead. There was no proof! No, he was out there still, she was sure of it.

She shivered and stared into Obi-Wan’s eyes. “You really think he’s gone, don’t you?” The words came out of her mouth at their own accord before she could stop herself.

Obi-Wan turned his face away, frowning, “What’s done is done, Ahsoka; we cannot argue fa—”

That was it. For the second time in two days, Ahsoka felt herself spring to her feet, hands balled into fists; bottled up rage whirled inside of her, an oncoming storm in the peaceful gardens of meditation.

“Master Kenobi, what I don’t understand is how you can just sit there and make judgement, just _leaving_ your former Padawan out to die on his own. He could be out there—” She gestured wildly with her arms, “—and we wouldn’t know because you never even _attempted_ to find him!”

“Ahsoka! Calm yourself!”

Oh, she was _way_ beyond the point of calm. Tears pricked in her eyes. “Leave me alone, Master, _please_.”

Obi-Wan passed a hand over his eyes, his expression masked, but hinting at something like mild devastation. “There’s a Council meeting in an hour; they’ve requested that we both be there.” Voice thick, her Grandmaster rose from his seat and stepped out of the hollow.

Her insides boiling, Ahsoka squeezed her eyes tightly shut in order to keep the emotion out of her voice. “Well,” she said venomously, “I guess if you’re gonna _order_ me to go, then I don’t have a choice, do I?”

Her Grandmaster stopped, still turned away from her.

“That was not my intention,” Obi-Wan replied softly, dipping his head. “It’s our duty to report what happened to the Jedi Council, Ahsoka.”

Ahsoka stayed silent, willing him to just leave her alone. Unshed tears blurred her eyes. More than _anything_ in the entire world, she wanted her Master back. 

Before he fully had climbed out of the hollow, Obi-Wan paused, turning towards her again. “Ahsoka—” he began, then cut himself off. It seemed as though he meant to say something important, but did not know how to phrase it.

And then Ahsoka’s iron grip on her emotions slipped.

_Kriff._

Shoulders trembling, her shields falling by the second, she shook her head. “Please, I need a minute.” The whisper seemed inaudible to her ears, but Obi-Wan must have heard it, for he reluctantly stepped away, dipping his head.

“Padawan…If you ever need anything…I will see you at the meeting…”

Then he was gone, leaving Ahsoka to grieve alone.

||

The meeting had started fairly smoothly, the Council silent as ever and looking them over with stony expressions. As far as meetings went, this one seemed rather heavily-attended. It only appeared that three Masters, all of whom were on missions, were absent. Despite this, Obi-Wan had still received a shock when he walked into the mass of experienced Jedi, many of whom floated ominously, their holographic images trembling slightly as they silently listened to the story of Mortis.

Where he had once felt at home with the Council, their very presence brought waves of anxiety to his already-fatigued mind.

All emotions aside, the retelling had seemed to go fairly smoothly for him, though he was keenly aware of Ahsoka’s silence. She’d only spoken up a few times to fill in the occasional gap in his story, especially when it came time for her to describe her death and return.

The Council had certainly been curious about that; Obi-Wan could feel the very air itself begin to vibrate with their curiosity. Ahsoka must have felt it too, for she seemed to retreat within herself even further.

For both their sakes, he motor-mouthed his way through Ahsoka’s masquerade in the Dark Side, rushing through their battle and only pausing to collect his thoughts after he’d caught Ahsoka sleeping on the ship—though he did not mention that specifically.

“Anakin went searching for the Son,” he continued, “despite my misgivings about him going alone. I will say that it was a risky move, but it was well-founded. There were only three of us and the Son did pose quite a threat.”

Master Windu raised a brow, but he said nothing.

Obi-Wan mentally kicked himself; his opinion did matter and Anakin, at the time, had been given good reason to chase the Son…but who was he trying to convince that it had been the right choice? The Council or himself?

He shoved away the intruding thoughts with a vengeance, only realizing that he was fast approaching another event that would prove quite difficult to explain…to say the very _least._

“I decided to search for him, _after_ consulting with the Father,” Obi-Wan said. “He told me about a place on the planet where the Dark Side lived, and I—that’s where Anakin went…”

Voice trailing off, he paused to glance at Ahsoka, who remained quiet, though there was a glint of curiosity in her eyes. It was then that he realized that he never told her about the Well of the Dark Side…or what had transpired there.

Suddenly feeling self-conscious, he shifted his weight back and folded his arms across his chest, eyes falling on Master Yoda’s gimer stick. Unease rippled through the Force and he didn’t need to look over his shoulder to know that it was coming from Ahsoka.

“The Son, he…”

Voice catching, Obi-Wan hesitated, unable to condemn his former Padawan in front of the Council. But it had to be done; there was little choice. He cleared his throat roughly, feeling a hint of soreness there.

“The Son turned Anakin…Dark,” Obi-Wan said tightly. He paused, quickling rubbing at the bridge of this nose with his left hand. It felt as though someone was drilling a hole in his skull—or rather, _two_ holes right through his temples. Zigoola and its hellish Sith-weaponry had kept its claws in him after all this time, and now after visiting Mortis…His head throbbed, and the haunted memories threatened to surface.

He sighed heavily, keenly aware of Mace’s piercing gaze; more than anything, he wished that he was somewhere else, _anywhere_ else. 

“But it wasn’t the same as how it was with Ahsoka,” he said, looking at his Grandpadawan again. She stared at the floor, not even meeting the gazes of the Council members. She still held her silence, uncharacteristically quiet. To Obi-Wan, it was as though she held a neon sign above her head reading: _“I’m not myself.”_ It hurt him to see the energetic, young girl lose herself so quickly. But none of them had walked away from Mortis unscathed… _none_ of them.

“He felt, in many respects, the same as he always had. But then he kept talking about the future, and…” Obi-Wan trailed off yet again, fighting for words.

Master Yoda hummed. “Distressing, this news is,” he murmured. The ancient Master’s head was bowed, and the quiet sadness emanating from his Force presence was enough to set a quietness to the Council Chamber that Obi-Wan had rarely seen before.

Glancing at Yoda for a moment, Master Windu shifted back to look at Obi-Wan and Ahsoka, eyebrows furrowed. “What happened after that? Surely that could not have been the end.”

Obi-Wan blinked. “I…” he began. He looked around the Chamber, suddenly feeling all of the Councillors’ intense stares on him. The words to describe what had happened seemed just out of reach and he squeezed his eyes tight, letting his mind fall back to the memories. All the while, he remained keenly aware of the burdened silence of the Council around him.

Ahsoka frowned, looking more miserable than before. The memory of what happened must have been terrible for her…

_Oh, Force._

Pain, blinding pain, a peal of high, cruel laughter…He suppressed a shudder. The Son had tortured him, laughing as the Sith lightning overpowered his senses…But Ahsoka had been there in the Force, calling to him.

How much had he hurt her? How much had she felt?

Obi-Wan frowned. “It’s hard to say,” he admitted. “I remember…I remember the Son’s Sith Lightning was overpowering me.”

Another memory of the pain nearly set Obi-Wan off-balance. He felt his heart racing in his chest, his head pounding, the crackling reminder of the agony consuming his life-force, and then…

Nothing.

_When did my mouth get so dry?_

He cleared his throat again, breaking the awkward silence that had descended on the chamber.

“I don’t...I don’t remember what happened next,” Obi-Wan murmured. He blinked rapidly as the forms of the Masters sitting in front of him seemed to blur. His chest felt oddly tight; each and every breath seemed to constrict his lungs even further. The pain residing behind his eyes pulsed, and he rubbed at his forehead again, struggling for control.

Under no circumstances did Obi-Wan particularly enjoy showing weakness in front of anyone. _Anyone._ And now, here he was, struggling for words like a fish out of water, a thunderous headache raging war with his brain.

Through his hazy vision, he saw Master Windu frown and lean forward, placing his elbows on his knees. Ahsoka was staring at him strangely too, as though she wanted to say something, but didn’t know exactly how to phrase it.

_He could relate. Putting together the story was like putting together an ancient puzzle with half of its pieces missing._

Obi-Wan swallowed. The pain was…Well, if he was being honest, it burned through his mind like a raging wildfire, leaving him fragile, uncertain.

“I…” he whispered. He felt like he was drowning, like he never actually left Mortis, like the Son was still torturing him, like…

The pain hadn’t stopped. Now his skin seemed to tingle painfully, like small electrical charges were detonating within his pores, burning him from the inside out.

Through the ringing in his ears, he heard Yoda speak. “Alright, are you, Obi-Wan?” the Grandmaster asked, tilting his head. “Pain, I feel from you.”

_Why can’t I…I can’t remember? I…_

Something was missing, something _critical_ and it was at the tip of his tongue, _frustratingly_ out of reach…

“I’m… fine…” he breathed. The Force was trembling, shaking, crying, and he couldn’t make sense of it at all.

“I…felt that something was wrong,” Ahsoka said finally, voice quiet, making him turn abruptly towards her. “Master Kenobi was in a _lot_ of pain, and my bond with my Master, it…it felt almost like a void.”

Obi-Wan managed to take a deep breath, slowly beginning to center himself. The pain lingered at the back of his skull, but he managed to push it down and away. Later. He would deal with it later. Right now, it was a matter of maintaining his composure in front of the Council…

“Is this true?” Master Mundi asked Ahsoka, voice gentle. “That your bond with Skywalker had become as you say, ‘like a void’, Padawan Tano?”

The Force shivered, reminding Obi-Wan of the coldness of Anakin’s presence, of…

A terrible image of a crouched monster popped into his mind, a twisted, grim sight reminiscent of an eel. He suppressed a shudder. 

“It was like he was all cold in the Force, Master,” Ahsoka replied, eyes shining. “I don’t…it felt _terrible_.” She trembled, pulling her arms close about her sides. “It was worse than anything I’ve ever sensed before.”

Master Windu sat back, resting his arms at his sides. “Sounds an awful like the Dark Side to me,” he said grimly, looking at Yoda.

Obi-Wan’s heart sank to his stomach and he all of a sudden realized where the conversation was headed.

_No, no I didn’t get to—_

Yoda sighed, closing his eyes, his long ears drooping.

Thankfully, Ahsoka was calmer now, though Obi-Wan could still feel the confusion; worry, stress, and a degree of panic emanated from her Force presence in waves.

“More to this story, I sense. But the time for the truth, now is not. Right now, more urgent matters, we must discuss,” Yoda said, placing his clawed hands in his lap.

_Oh, Force. This is not good. This is not good at all…Ahsoka…_

Obi-Wan felt his heart beginning to race—which did no favors for his headache—and he swallowed thickly, forcing himself to stay calm. Whatever happened next, he needed to stand his ground. He could _not_ show weakness. He could not…

Next to him, Ahsoka frowned, sensing his excess emotions through their light bond. She glanced at Obi-Wan, eyes bright with confusion. He could easily sense her apprehension. Bonds were a two-way street, after all. She was wondering why Yoda made it sound like there was more to talk about, besides what happened on Mortis.

Little did she know.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, stroking his beard before running a hand through his hair. What was he supposed to say? Nothing was coming to mind. He was distracted, too unfocused, too…

“What—what do you mean, more urgent matters?” Ahsoka asked, voice cracking. “I’m not—what could be more urgent than what happened on Mortis?”

She turned towards him fully now, hands lightly clenched at her sides, eyes huge. In the Force, her curiosity and nerves were lighting up the like a beacon—blinding. 

Obi-Wan breathed slowly, turning to face her. “Ahsoka…” he began, voice catching in his throat.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Master Windu motion at him to wait. Obi-Wan closed his eyes, slumping his shoulders. This was…this was all his fault. He was too late…he had waited far too long.

“Padawan Tano—” Master Windu began, then looked at Master Plo, apparently at a loss for words. Ahsoka, meanwhile was hanging onto their every breath, biting her lip hard enough to draw blood.

Master Plo stood up slowly, clasping his hands in front of him, regret and sorrow hanging about him. Obi-Wan felt like he couldn’t breathe, like everything was on the verge of falling apart.

_Force, I’ve failed…_

“We spoke to Master Kenobi under the pretense that he was to pass on the news to you. Judging by your reaction, I take it that he has not had the chance.” Master Plo said gently, his eyes moving between the two of them.

Ahsoka opened her mouth to reply, but before she could say anything, Obi-Wan forced himself to speak. This was _his_ fault, his failure. He needed to face the consequences.

“I did not have the chance to pass on the information,” he said, bowing his head. Shame curled in his gut, making him feel cold and nauseous. “There were… complications.”

Ahsoka looked at him nervously, eyes shining. “What information?” she asked slowly, voice trembling just slightly.

_By the Force, please let this end. Let this end…_

Master Windu sat forward, steepling his fingers. “Padawan Tano,” he began, voice mild. “I’m afraid that one of our outposts on the Outer Rim found Skywalker’s ship. When they reached the crash site, there…wasn’t much left to find. Once they managed to get inside the remains, they found his lightsaber as well as some other belongings.”

The silence was deep, tearing away at Obi-Wan’s well-erected shields. He dug himself a deeper hole in his mind and buried himself. He could not grieve here, not in front of everyone. But he wanted to scream and cry into the Coruscant night like a child.

Suddenly, he was no longer a Jedi Master. He was a Padawan, watching the flames of Qui-Gon Jinn’s funeral pyre rising into the night.

Ahsoka’s eyes widened, and her lekku paled. Backing away, she shook her head, horrified.

“No… _no_ …” she whispered. Tears sparkled in her eyes, but not a single one fell; she blinked them back with fervor.

Obi-Wan’s heart twisted at the sight. He _failed_. He failed her, he failed Anakin, and Qui-Gon, and…

And now everything was falling apart. Ahsoka’s spirit was leaving him, her mind growing ever more silent from his own. He had nothing left, no Padawan, no Master, not even a Grandpadawan.

He was alone.

“Ahsoka—” Obi-Wan breathed, reaching out for her.

“ _No!_ ” Ahsoka hissed, jerking backwards.

Obi-Wan let his hand drop to his side and bowed his head. The pounding in his skull intensified, but he ignored it, focusing on the moment, on what was happening right in front of him. He opened his mouth, then closed it, feeling more lost than he’d felt in nearly a decade.

Master Windu sighed, then continued, as though nothing happened. “They sent his belongings back to us,” he said, then turned to Master Fisto. “Master Fisto?”

He wasn’t ready; he definitely wasn’t ready for this…Obi-Wan struggled to swallow the tension building in his chest.

Master Fisto closed his eyes and stood, walking the center of the room, carrying a bundle wrapped in brown cloth and tied off with a string.

Obi-Wan’s heart leaped into his throat. He swallowed and gritted his teeth together, struggling to keep his shields from falling, from _shattering_ into a million pieces.

Ahsoka let out a sob, tears openly running down her face. Obi-Wan placed a tentative hand on her shoulder, struggling to exude comfort and peace in the Force, though he was sure he didn’t appear that way. He was shattering, cracking, falling apart.

He had _nothing_ left.

“I am sorry…he is one with the Force, now,” Master Fisto said, voice solemn, all signs of his trademark smile gone. He placed a hand on the top of the bag and pulled the string, revealing its contents.

Anakin’s lightsaber sat at the very top, scorched and burnt, but still recognizable. Obi-Wan closed his eyes tightly, feeling nothing and everything at once. He was—he was _broken_. A numbness spread from his chest, expanding outwards and rooting him to the spot as though he was nothing but a statue.

And Ahsoka? Ahsoka was…

Ahsoka choked, shoving Obi-Wan’s hand off her shoulder. She rushed forward into Master Plo’s arms, sobbing into his robes.

_Oh._

Obi-Wan blinked.

_There is nothing left._

Master Fisto walked over to Obi-Wan and carefully placed the bundle in his arms. Obi-Wan closed his eyes, trying to ignore the shattering agony that keened into the Force from Ahsoka’s cries.

_This is…this is all my fault._

_I’m so sorry._


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feat. a depressed Obi-Wan and a desperate Ahsoka.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, we plan on extending the updates to every two weeks. It gives us time to really concentrate on putting out the best content we can. Also, the chapters are longer, almost twice what I had for the first 6 which averaged 3-4k words. ~LazarusII

She couldn’t breathe.

Ahsoka felt Master Plo’s hands pressing on her shoulders, his Force presence emanating cool reassurance and peace. She buried her head into his robes, inhaling his familiar scent, feeling it wash over her frayed nerves like a soothing balm.

The Force was splintered, _broken_. Closing her eyes, she pulled away from her Finder. Her face was wet, almost completely drenched with tears. Everyone in the Council Chambers was staring at her…well, _almost_ everyone.

Obi-Wan stood next to her with empty slate grey eyes staring off into the distance, fingers digging into the fabric of the bundle. In the Force, he was as vacant as ever, as though none of this mattered at all to him. It was like he didn’t even care about the fact that he _lied_ to her about what truly happened to her Master.

 _Anakin_.

Anakin was _dead_.

“I…” she managed, then she swallowed.

Obi-Wan’s eyes finally flicked away from the nothingness, moving slowly to her as if he’d only just realized that she was standing there. His expression stayed carefully guarded and, to Ahsoka, it felt like a punch to the gut. “Ahsoka,” he said softly. “Ahsoka, I…”

She shook her head and turned away, suddenly unable to face him. “No, I...I can’t,” she whispered, slowly shifting out of Master Plo’s grip. “ _No_.”

Without waiting to see the Council’s reaction, she broke off into a run. She dashed out of the Chambers, out of the atrium, and down the corridor towards the lift. Tears blurred her vision, melting the walls and floor into a single brown streak as she let her feet carry her away. As she ran, she felt the Force cry back to her, mourning, sobbing, _screaming_. 

It _hurt_.

Approaching the lift, she glanced over her shoulder to see if she was being followed. The hall was empty. When she faced forward again, her eyes widened at the sight before her. She came to an immediate stop, breathing heavily from the exertion.

“ _Barriss_?”

The Mirialan stood in front of her, looking just as surprised as she felt. Ahsoka hadn’t seen Barriss in at least a few months; the last time she saw her was before Barriss’ Knighting, before everything went so horribly wrong…

Barriss hadn’t physically changed much since she last saw her, besides the exhaustion that seemed to cling to her like an ill-fitting cloak. As Ahsoka reached for her in the Force, she felt Barriss’ loneliness easily slipping through her shields. A moment later, the emotion vanished, pulled back within the disciplined shields of its owner.

“Ahsoka,” Barriss replied, tilting her head. A frown formed on her lips. “Force, what’s wrong? You’re _crying_. Did something happen?”

Ahsoka pressed a trembling hand to her cheeks, having forgotten the tears still on her face. A wave of fresh grief washed over her, and she pressed her hand over her eyes, shuddering. She was shattered, broken, alone…

“I—I’m just—” she stuttered, unable to speak much over the tightness in her chest. Everything suddenly became blurry, and she felt dizzy, as though the lack of air was quickly robbing her of her consciousness. The world seemed too large a place, too bright and moving too fast. Her brain was overloading, and there wasn’t time to take anything in it all…Eyes wide, Ahsoka took a step back, her hands leaping to her mouth.

She felt Barriss place a gentle hand on her shoulder as her Force presence stretched out to reach hers, projecting calmness.

“Ahsoka, you need to breathe,” Barriss murmured. “I know it’s difficult. Block everything out right now; just focus on getting yourself to breathe.”

Ahsoka nodded. She let in a few gulps of air, struggling to clear her blurring vision, to slow down her racing heart. A few moments passed—she didn’t even know exactly how long it was—before she was able to compose herself, at least slightly.

“Let’s go talk somewhere else,” Barriss suggested, eyes bright with concern. Ahsoka found herself nodding without much thought, and she followed her friend into the lift, desperately trying to ignore the gathering emptiness in her mind where her bond with Anakin once resided.

Barriss didn’t say anything while they rode the lift up to the residential wing of the Temple. Her silence was…calming, somehow. It wasn’t an oppressive silence; it was more comfortable, more understanding.

A few minutes later, Ahsoka found herself sitting within the plain walls of Barriss’ quarters, staring down at the floor. Barriss sat next to her, quiet but calm. Ahsoka found herself appreciating the silence; it meant that her friend was willing to wait, to give Ahsoka as much time as she needed to gather herself.

“The—” Ahsoka began, wincing at the sound of her congested voice. She sniffed and rubbed at her nose with the back of her hand. “The Council believes that Anakin’s dead. Obi-Wan does, too. And…”

“And what?” Barriss asked gently. Whatever surprise she felt about Anakin’s supposed death was hidden from view.

Ahsoka felt a tear slip out of her eye and slide down her cheek. She rubbed at it furiously, desperately wishing for much more control.

Then she blinked.

“Barriss, Obi-Wan _knew_ about the ship explosion,” Ahsoka realized, eyes widening. “The Council _told_ him, and he decided to keep it from me. He knew for _all_ this time—that _has_ to be why he was so insistent on getting back to the Temple as soon as possible!”

That got a reaction. Beside her Barriss leaned back, her lips parted in confusion. Ahsoka clenched her fists, rubbing again at her eyes, a hint of a snarl creeping onto her face. 

“Ahsoka—wait. Slow down,” she said, raising a hand. “What ship?”

Ahsoka shook her head, forging on, pretending that she didn’t hear Barriss. “He _lied_ to me,” she hissed. “He never even cared about Anakin; he just— _tolerated_ him or something; I don’t know.”

“ _Ahsoka_!” Barriss exclaimed, her voice raised.

Ahsoka’s mouth snapped shut, and she ducked her head, ashamed. The anger burning somewhere in her gut had settled down into an icy simmer, leaving her exhausted. She’d never felt such powerful anger before, especially towards Obi-Wan. She distantly remembered Anakin’s frustrations about his former Master, mainly after their longer arguments, and found herself finally understanding exactly how Anakin felt during those times.

Obi-Wan _was_ cold, emotionless. He didn’t care about any of this, not even a little.

“I’m sorry, Barriss,” Ahsoka mumbled. “I’m not—I’m not myself, I suppose. I think I’m gonna go clean up. Why don’t we catch up later?”

For a moment, Barriss’ eyes flashed, but the light disappeared when she smiled, nodding in reluctant agreement. “We’ll talk later, then,” she replied, placing a hand on Ahsoka’s shoulder. “And for what it’s worth, Ahsoka…I’m very sorry about Master Skywalker.”

With tears blurring her vision, Ahsoka nodded, rising to depart from the room.

The trip to her quarters was a blur, as was how she ended up on the couch. She didn’t remember exactly when she had fallen asleep. All she did know was that, when she did finally regain consciousness, she found herself covered by a blanket, a pillow tucked beneath her head. In her exhaustion, she must have grabbed both items before falling asleep, but she certainly didn’t remember doing so. But what other explanation was there? 

* * *

It was strange to see the prosthetic hand without the glove to cover it. Since Geonosis, Anakin was always so self-conscious of his mech hand, probably because of what it meant to him. The prosthetic itself was golden, its metallic fingers unnaturally thin and spidery, with false muscle toning and joints, carefully crafted from the same strong material.

The hand had always been shiny and clean, well cared for by its owner. Now, it sat on Obi-Wan’s lap, swathed in cloth, mangled and scorched nearly past the point of recognition. But he only had to reach into the Force to know that this truly was Anakin’s hand; otherwise, it would have been unrecognizable. He took a long look at the medial side, metal strands splayed outwards about halfway up the metallic forearm, almost like a hideous claw.

He cringed and traced a finger over a wire, hanging from the center of the damaged limb. It looked too… _wrong_ like this.

The thin fingers were tightly closed in a fist and Obi-Wan half-heartedly poked at the mechanical joint. A wave of turbulent emotions battered his mind through the light bond he had with his Grandpadawan, causing him to dive even deeper into the Force. She was so angry, sad, and confused…

He didn’t blame her.

The months after Qui-Gon’s death still resembled a black hole, even nearly a decade later. Obi-Wan, young as he had been, had been unable to shake the terrible grief that had consumed his mind. He had grown attached to his Master, formed a close enough bond to Qui-Gon to be frowned upon by the Jedi, and it had come back to bite him…rather badly.

At the time, it had been a day-to-day battle of wits against the crushing emptiness in the Force that had once been occupied by his Master. In typical Jedi fashion, he had hidden his grief away, letting it fester like an infected wound. Only Anakin Skywalker had been able to rescue him from the endless cycle of pain.

Even now, the shadow of that terrible grief still haunted him, reawakened by the events of Mortis in a horrible, twisted way. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the tattooed Zabrak, swathed in dark robes, towering over the prone figure of Qui-Gon Jinn, Anakin Skywalker lying beside him, bodies marking the bloody trail the Sith had left in his life. His dreams were just as dark, digging up all the old memories in terrifying detail, making each night restless and nothing short of torture.

_Melida/Daan..._

_Naboo..._

_Geonosis..._

_Zigoola…_

_Mortis..._

They were all there, waiting in line in typical Sith fashion.

Obi-Wan gently wrapped the severed arm back within its bandages and laid it on the table, pulling the straps of Anakin’s travel bag open. As expected, the lightsaber was on top, and Obi-Wan took a moment to inspect its charred surface.

_“Was there a body?”_

_“No…but judging by the condition of the ship and what was left, any living tissue would have been vaporized on impact.”_

He swallowed thickly and rested the lightsaber next to the bundle, keenly aware of the black smudges that the smoke-covered metal left on his fingers. The pressure of unshed tears battered the back of his eyes and he fought the feeling back half-heartedly. It just felt too much like Qui-Gon’s death…

 _This is probably not the best time for this._ In a fluid motion, he sealed the bag and placed it next to the rest of Anakin’s belongings.

Obi-Wan had hoped that Ahsoka would be spared the pain of death and loss; she was so innocent…too young to shoulder such a burden. He needed to be strong for her.

 _Not that she wants to talk to me_. The bitter thought came to his mind, and he paused. Where had that come from? He dismissed the thought, and searched himself for the feeling, crushing the small bud of anger the moment he located it.

Another rush of emotion washed over him, once more radiating from his Grandpadawan. Silently, he dove into the Force, letting his presence travel back up the light bond to the turbulent mind beyond.

Ahsoka was despairing, looking everywhere for even the slightest glimmer of hope—something considered taboo among the Jedi. Already, he could picture the turned heads and disapproving glares. Yes, the Temple was home, but at times the Jedi could be quite oppressive and too quick to judge one another.

And the last thing Ahsoka needed on top of all of this was to face that judgment herself.

Wordlessly, Obi-Wan sank down onto his meditation pad. His Grandpadawan was firmly rooted in the Light, despite her recent emotional turbulence. She would recover in time, but right now she was overexposing herself. It wouldn’t be very long before the Council would notice. They would be the harshest judges of her emotional imbalance, and given her current situation…He just knew it would be another mess, just like what he’d faced with Anakin.

And that was something he would _not_ allow her to go through.

Careful not to disturb his Grandpadawan, he wrapped his Force-signature around hers, embracing it in as much energy as he could spare. Ever so slowly, he began to pull at the roiling ball of emotions around her, unraveling it in order to make way for the calm.

The mental strain of creating the connection was more than he’d expected—by a lot. Goosebumps formed on his arms, and he felt the beginnings of a full-blown migraine brewing in his skull. The air of his quarters, which had seemed all too stifling before, suddenly felt cold and damp.

It was relatively easy to alter the channel of an emotionally distressed person’s feelings. Of course, Obi-Wan would never have mentioned it to Anakin, but he’d ended up taking on his former-Padawan’s emotional outbursts a great many times.

However, emotional outbursts were only set up to go in one direction: out. But what “out” meant was up to the determination of whoever was on the other end of a bond. Usually any Force user could sense any normal breakdown or fit of anger—it would light up the in Force like a beacon.

Despite that, there were options. Over a bond, training or otherwise, it was possible to shield and take on the emotions of the other, changing the symbiotic relationship to one vastly more one-sided. Much like how humans used to have to donate a kidney, the partner would sacrifice their energy to keep another hidden or in stability.

And this situation certainly qualified.

The only thing about it was that it hurt. Kriffing _hells_ , it hurt.

A massive tidal wave of hurt, pain, and anger swept over him, smashing his mental shields down faster than he could’ve ever thought possible. Decades of training vanished in a second, demolished by the power of Ahsoka’s grief.

Obi-Wan choked, and he felt his heart skip a beat. Every nerve in his body screamed that it was too much, _way too much_. Sweat trickled down his face as he grappled with his own self-control just to stop from screaming.

The wave passed so slowly that it was physically painful, leaving Obi-Wan shaky and breathless in its wake. Tentatively, he reached out again towards his Grandpadawan, almost afraid of what he would find on the other side. It was with great relief that he found everything undisturbed on Ahsoka’s side. She hadn’t noticed his presence at all.

That was good, almost too good to be true...

Shakily, Obi-Wan got to his feet, feeling more exhausted than before. His knees shook and when he went to take a step forwards, he found himself gripping the arm of the sofa in a deathgrip, barely managing to stay upright. He took a deep breath before slowly releasing the soft fabric. The world seemed to be moving around him at an unnatural, dizzying speed.

A strong wave of guilt washed over him. It wasn’t his own, but he welcomed the feeling nonetheless. Thankfully, Ahsoka seemed to be calming down as her projected emotions seemed to be returning to a balance.

He wondered when would be a good time to approach her. They needed to talk, _desperately_. But it was still too soon, the wound still too raw to begin healing.

Feeling strangely numb, he made his way to the fresher and closed the door, the idea of much-needed rest far away from his mind.

There was still something he had to do, something just as desperately-needed—if his gut was telling him correctly—as a conversation with Ahsoka. 

And if his guess was correct, it could just be about the most important thing he could ever do to honor Anakin’s memory.

* * *

Coruscant’s traffic felt heavier than usual—it was as though the entire city-planet was in a gridlock, lines of traffic almost trapping speeders to a complete standstill.

Normally, Obi-Wan wouldn’t have really minded the constant bustle of luxury liners and speeder-bikes. Normally, he would have sat and waited for the evening rush to simmer away. He would have observed his surroundings, appreciated the stillness of Coruscant in those moments, the distinct sort of quietness that seemed to come with Coruscant’s evening traffic.

But this was hardly a normal situation.

Obi-Wan tightened his grip on the steering wheel till his knuckles turned white. A part of him wished he never left the Temple in the first place, that he just locked himself in his quarters, and…

And what?

Half an hour ago, he’d been in standing in the Senate building outside Senator Amidala’s empty office, listening to a Senate guidance droid drone on and on about the standard procedure when leaving a message. It was simple: the Senator had retired for the evening. Obi-Wan had decided to go to her apartment, as much as he wished to turn around and drive back to the Temple.

But he knew that Padmé was important to Anakin, and that she deserved to know what happened from him, rather than from the Holonet, or worse, from idle gossip.

She needed to know the _truth_.

It was the least he could do for an old friend.

Obi-Wan parked the speeder in one of the emptier lots of the apartment complex, choosing to walk rather than fly directly to her private suite. Somehow it felt right, less invasive that way. Slowly, he made his way over to the lift before riding it up to the top floor of the building.

Much to his dismay, he found himself thinking of the anxiety Anakin had experienced when riding up this lift all those years ago. His Padawan had been so nervous that the air itself had seemed to burst into sparks of lightning. Obi-Wan could clearly recall the sheer amount of effort it had taken to soothe his own nerves in the moment, having been triggered by his own apprentice's broadcast anxiety.

Obi-Wan released a breath, bowing his head. He wished so desperately to be back in that moment, to look up and see Anakin standing nervously next to him, almost vibrating with his anxiety, his long Padawan braid still attached beside his temple.

_The good old days, before the dark times…before the war…_

The lift beeped, indicating his arrival. Obi-Wan reluctantly strode from the lift towards the door in front of him. Taking a deep breath to center himself as much as he could, he rang the buzzer.

Moments passed, before the door slid open. Senator Amidala’s droid stood at the landing, golden eyes bright and curious, as usual.

“Ah, ah, Mistress Padmé!” C-3PO crooned in his usual overly-cheerful tone, moving out of the way to usher Obi-Wan into the apartment. “Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi is here to see you!”

There was a bit of a shuffling sound, followed by hurried footsteps. The door at the end of the corridor opened, revealing Padmé, looking pleasantly surprised. Obi-Wan immediately felt anxiety spike somewhere within him—his mouth went dry and he could suddenly feel his heart beginning to race in his chest.

Force, what was he _doing_?

“Obi-Wan?” Padmé asked, tilting her head slightly. “What are you doing here?”

She took a few steps forward, towards Obi-Wan, before she glanced behind him. “Is Anakin with you?” she asked, standing on her tiptoes to see if Anakin was coming up through the door, standing in the hallway outside the apartment.

“Anakin?” she called.

 _She thinks he’s here_. _He usually is here whenever I visit. We come here together…Oh, Force…_

He suddenly found himself at a loss for words—how was he supposed to tell her that Anakin was gone? That the sweet little boy that she met on Tatooine was dead?

How was he supposed to say _anything_? Every thought that came to his mind was harsh and brittle, self-deprecating and exaggerated. He desperately wanted to tell her that everything would be alright, that Anakin Skywalker was alive and well and…

Something in his face must have betrayed him, for Padmé looked more concerned now, but her expression remained guarded.

Avoiding her eyes, Obi-Wan directed his gaze back to C-3PO, who was staring at him intently. This was _Anakin_ ’s droid; he remembered Anakin talking about Threepio when he was a Padawan. Somehow, the idea of his former-apprentice’s creation listening in on the conversation seemed wrong. 

He took a deep breath. “Senator, I…” he managed, glancing at C-3PO again. “May we speak privately?”

Immediately, Padmé’s nerves seemed to spike into the Force. If she’d had any fears about something being wrong earlier, they had just been confirmed.

“Threepio, why don’t you power down for the night?” Padmé said softly, turning towards her droid. “I can manage by myself.”

The protocol droid nodded. If he was actually sentient, Obi-Wan would have guessed that he would have been disappointed by the dismissal.

“Very well, Mistress Padmé,” C-3PO replied. “Good night, Mistress Padmé, Master Kenobi.” With that, he turned around and walked away, leaving them alone.

Padmé sighed, then looked up at Obi-Wan, face still blank. Obi-Wan took a moment to marvel her self-control. For a non-Jedi, it was quite impressive.

“Why don’t we talk inside?” she said, gesturing to the nearest door.

Obi-Wan nodded, and followed her to a small sitting room.

The apartment was fairly modest in size and decor, much like the interior of the Senate building. Obi-Wan could appreciate the sparse decor, despite his own bias towards the minimalistic life of the Jedi. While others might fill the small room with ornate jewels and treasures from across the galaxy, the sitting room comprised only of two small sofas—one double and the other single—and a coffee table raised several feet from the carpeted floor. It was modest, simple, and oddly comforting.

Yet, despite the warm atmosphere, the silence between them pressed into Obi-Wan’s eardrums in an oppressive way. He desperately wished that he didn’t have to do this, that he was somewhere else, _anywhere_ else.

He cleared his throat. “Padmé, I…I know that you’re close with Anakin,” he began softly, keeping his eyes focused on the ground.

Padmé paused for a brief moment before she replied. “I am, Obi-Wan. I’ve known him since he was a little boy, you know that,” she replied. Her tone had changed. It was almost cold, betraying her nervousness. “But why are you saying this now? Where _is_ he?”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Obi-Wan closed his eyes and leaned back into the couch cushions. Keeping Ahsoka shielded in the Force was exhausting, and the lingering pain that Mortis had wrought in his mind had yet to fade away. His limbs felt like they were made of iron. A part of him wondered if he could just sink into the floor and escape it all.

 _Force_ , he was tired.

“There was an…incident several days ago on a mission,” he said finally, opening his eyes again.

Padmé visibly paled. “No…” she whispered, then she leaned forward slightly towards Obi-Wan. “What happened?” she asked, “Is Anakin alright?”

She, like Ahsoka, was desperate for comfort, hoping against hope that he could tell them that everything would be fine. But it would be a lie.

Obi-Wan swallowed. “No,” he managed finally. “Padmé, he’s not alright…there was an explosion—”

“Well, are the Healers taking care of him, then?” she asked, voice trembling slightly. Her frantic emotions spilled out into the Force, pressing onto his shields almost painfully. Ordinarily, it would have been something easy to brush off, but the conflict dug into him, uniting with the pain already coming from Ahsoka. “I can—I can come visit him at the Temple, or…”

Obi-Wan looked back down at the floor, unable to watch Padmé grow more and more anxious at the thought of Anakin being injured so terribly…

Little did she know that it was worse than she thought, so much worse.

 _Well, there’s no turning back now_.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, trying to ground himself as much as possible before he spoke. His link with Ahsoka flared, and at that moment, he was almost certain that his Grandpadawan could feel everything.

“He’s…dead, Padmé,” he croaked.

When she didn’t immediately reply, he looked up to see her staring right back at him with wide, tear-filled eyes. The anxiety that she held earlier had become denial and a broken anguish that somehow reflected his own.

Closing his eyes, Obi-Wan remembered a time when he and Qui-Gon had tried to help a village on Felucia. It had been decades since, but the memory still remained with him as though it only happened yesterday.

He and his Master had been just passing through the village when it was attacked by pirates who had been plaguing the village for years, taking its women and children, and using them as slaves until they either died or became “damaged,” as they described them.

Some of the villagers had begged them to help, for them to stop the pirates from harming their families, but others had taken one look at their lightsabers and cried that the presence of a Jedi could only bring more grief to those around them.

During the night, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon had defended the village, stopping the pirates from taking any more hostages. The people had rejoiced their success, only to die the next night while Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were recalled to the nearest city.

Obi-Wan would never forget returning to the sight of the burned houses, its occupants hideously burned and left out in the streets, as though each burned corpse was nothing more than a trophy. The only survivor was one of the hostages, injured beyond hope and left to watch his family die in front of him.

 _“Stop! Get away from me! The Jedi only bring pain and suffering! Get away—”_

The memory had faded in time, but more recently it had returned in his dreams…no doubt reawakened with the Clone War.

_The Jedi can only bring pain and suffering._

He was beginning to agree.

“…No,” Padmé whispered, her lower lip trembling. Then she began to cry openly, tears sliding down her cheeks. A hand rose to cover her mouth. Obi-Wan’s heart sank at the sight.

“No, I would _know_ if that happened,” Padmé choked, breaths hitching. She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “He _can’t_ be, Obi-Wan!”

Oh, how he wished that was so. He wished that they had never gone to Mortis in the first place, that the Council never received the signal that initially brought them there, that the Father had not used them as pawns…

He wished that Anakin was _alive_.

Obi-Wan stood up slowly, barely trusting his legs to carry his weight, and walked over to Padmé, sitting down next to her. He felt a tightness in his chest, and his eyes began to burn just slightly with unshed tears, but he pushed them back, refusing to let a single one fall.

He was…he was _better_ than this. He should have been with Anakin from the start; he should have gone with him to see the Son. This shouldn’t have happened, none of it.

_It’s all my fault._

“Padmé, I’m so sorry…” he whispered, bowing his head mournfully.

She looked up, pulling away from him just slightly. Padmé wiped her face again, desperately trying to stop the tears. “Why are you apologizing?” she asked, voice low. “It’s not your fault.”

 _It is_ , Obi-Wan wanted to say. Instead, he stared at her, unable to come up with something to say in response.

She hadn’t been there, she didn’t even know what had happened.

“How can…how can you possibly say that?” he asked, voice thick. “Anakin was _my_ responsibility, Padmé. He was my Padawan.”

Padmé shook her head, more tears streaming down her face. Her eyes were shining. In the Force, the certainty of her words was like a beacon, unconflicted. Part of Obi-Wan wanted to shrink away from it, barely retaining his own masked emotions.

As if in an echo, Ahsoka’s own emotions spiked, tossing a shadow of pure anxiety towards him. He brushed it aside easily, choosing instead to focus on the beautifully embroidered cushion just beside him.

“I…” she said, then wiped at her cheek, sniffling slightly. “He grew up, Obi-Wan. Anakin was his own person, responsible for his own actions. Yes, he was your responsibility years ago, but now? That’s not the case anymore.”

Sighing, Obi-Wan closed his eyes. “I…I spent all these years raising him, Padmé,” he murmured. “He was my responsibility for all of that time, just like he was a few days ago.”

Padmé leapt to her feet, towering over Obi-Wan, face red. “We both know that’s not true,” she said through gritted teeth, eyes wide. “He is… _was_ responsible for his own actions. You can’t blame yourself for _his_ mistakes, Obi-Wan,” she continued.

Obi-Wan slowly shook his head again, forcing himself to breathe evenly. He couldn’t fall apart now, not like this. He was a _Jedi_ , and he needed to act like it.

“I promised Qui-Gon I would train him,” he managed, swallowing.

_I promised him, and I failed._

Padmé passed a hand over her face, clearly suppressing a new wave of tears. “You _did_ ,” she insisted, stepping forward slightly. “You did everything you could have done, Obi-Wan. Don’t…don’t blame yourself.” Padmé’s eyes were bright, but the passion shining in them spoke more than any words could possibly describe.

“How can you say that?” Obi-Wan said after a few long moments. “You’re—you were involved with him; I know you were.”

The intensity seemed to seep out of Padmé’s body in a single moment, and she dropped back onto the couch with a weary sigh.

“It’s more than that…” She let out a dry laugh before meeting his eyes. “He was my _husband_.”

Obi-Wan could barely stop his jaw from hitting the floor.

_Oh, Force, they got married?_

Obi-Wan let out a slow breath, letting the surprise roll through him rather easily. He imagined that in any other circumstance, he would have reacted… _more_.

 _After Geonosis, I would’ve probably been angry._

“Oh…” he said, distantly rubbing at the bridge of his nose again. A smirk crossed his face.

_And he hid it all this time? I’m…impressed._

“It’s not your fault,” Padmé repeated with conviction.

 _It is_ , but Obi-Wan didn’t say anything in response. He sighed and leaned back into the couch, letting his hand press onto his eyes before he dragged it away.

“I…” he began, unsure of what to say. “He cared for you, Padmé. Ever since you both met on Tatooine; he never stopped talking or thinking about you. You made him…happy. That much was obvious to me.”

_And now, because of me, Padmé is a widow._

As if she could sense his thoughts, Padmé let out another sob, covering her eyes once more. “I miss him…I miss him so much,” she burst out, voice muffled.

“I do, too,” Obi-Wan murmured, bowing his head.

In truth, he hadn’t noticed when he’d first become accustomed to Anakin’s bright Force presence. It had always been so easily reachable because of their bond, enhanced by his former-apprentice’s strength in the Force…Now it was just a void, empty and vacant of life.

Obi-Wan always joked that Anakin would someday be the death of him. He had expected the small boy he had met on Tatooine to become a Jedi Master along with himself, someday joining the Council and eventually outliving him. Now all he had was the memories of that child’s ambition, along with a severed arm and damaged lightsaber, not to mention an apprentice who was just as lost as he was on the inside. Anakin had been the Chosen One, destined to bring balance to the Force.

But the Force was far from balanced.

In truth, Obi-Wan had never truly believed in the prophecy. Even so, the clear inaccuracy of something that Qui-Gon had died for hurt like an icy dagger to the heart.

Padmé sighed, moving her hands away from her tear-stained face, breaking the silence that had once again taken the room. “I…I can’t imagine what Ahsoka’s going through right now,” she murmured.

Obi-Wan swallowed. He hadn’t seen Ahsoka since the Council meeting, but her emotions had shone through easily into the Force. The sheer effort it took to shield her emotions from other Jedi was outright exhausting, but…

But Ahsoka deserved to grieve properly. It would only be the best for her, and that was something that the Jedi could not give.

And who was he to take that away from her as well?

“She…isn’t taking it well,” he replied softly, his mind flashing back to the Council meeting.

“Well, it’s good that she has you, at least,” Padmé said, voice thick. “You need to be there for each other.”

He ducked his head out of guilt. What was he supposed to say to that? That Ahsoka didn’t want anything to do with him now? He’d hurt her so badly over the last few days. Obi-Wan closed his eyes, willing away the pressure building behind her eyes.

No, he was _not_ going to fall apart, not here—not now.

“Poor child,” Padmé continued, shaking her head. “She didn’t deserve any of this.”

“No, she didn’t,” Obi-Wan echoed softly.

Anakin didn’t deserve this either, and yet…

Padmé sighed, turning towards him again. “I’m glad you came and told me, Obi-Wan,” she admitted. “I know—I know you didn’t have to.”

He almost laughed aloud. _Yes, I now see that I really did need to. I see that now more than ever._

“It seemed only right to let you know in person,” he replied, getting to his feet. The idea of Padmé finding out through the Holonet or a report to the Senate had seemed terrible before. Now, it seemed more like something along the lines of being outright _cruel_.

She deserved better than that, married to his former-Padawan or not.

Padmé stood as well, smiling tearfully. “Still, I appreciate it.”

As if on on cue, Obi-Wan’s commlink beeped loudly. Glancing at it, he heaved a deep sigh. “I…I should get back to the Temple,” he said reluctantly.

Padmé nodded, walking him to the exit.

Pausing at the door, Obi-Wan leaned on the doorframe, staring out at the dark skyline before him. A part of him wondered how often Anakin had stood in the same spot, Padmé by his side as he departed for the front lines. He guessed it had been often enough, considering the number of times that he’d disappeared from the Temple.

Turning back to the Senator, he smiled at the faraway look in her eyes. “Padmé, I—”

Before he’d managed to finish a sentence, he found Padmé flying at him, pulling him into a tight hug.

Out of instinct, Obi-Wan stiffened, surprised by the contact, but he didn’t move. Padmé needed this, and…

And maybe, he did, too.

Slowly, he returned the embrace until she pulled back.

“Take care of yourself, Obi-Wan. May the Force be with you.” Her face was shadowed, but he could tell that she was attempting a smile.

“And with you, Senator,” he whispered, his control slipping again.

Obi-Wan quickly turned towards the door before she could see his face. Exhausted both mentally and physically, there was no stopping the sadness this time.

As he stepped outside of the apartment, a strong gust of wind nearly sent him toppling backwards. In the sky above, traffic hiccuped momentarily. Turning his head to the side, he blinked rapidly as the wind pressed itself directly onto his eyes, causing his eyes to water. Obi-Wan quickly scrubbed a hand over his face and walked over to his speeder.

He rode back to the Temple in silence, his mind cycling through old memories like a broken hologram. Just as he approached the express lane that lead directly to the Temple, he took a sharp turn, taking one of Anakin’s preferred detours. It was the long way back to the Temple, running the length of the Senate District before looping back around towards the Temple.

A painful throb ran through him once more and he coughed into his sleeve to distract himself. He was breaking, it was only a matter of time. From nowhere, a faint presence touched his mind, warm and comforting, reaching across the only remaining bond he shared in the Force. There were no words to the exchange.

When the tears finally came, he blamed the Coruscant wind, even as his heart lightened with every passing second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the countdown to the Citadel begins... dun dun dun


	11. Chapter 11 [Part 3] - Countdown to the Citadel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The countdown to the Citadel continues, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka talk, and we all gotta give Plo Koon some love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is quite a long chapter. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Note that there is dialogue taken from the original (Star Wars the Clone Wars) Episode 18, we do not own any rights over it.

In the hours following her conversation with Barriss, Ahsoka stayed in a strict circuit between her quarters and the Temple gardens, avoiding crowds and keeping to herself.

Or rather, she _tried_ to keep to herself. It was difficult being the Chosen One’s Padawan. Just his celebrity status among Jedi alone was enough to catapult her into the spotlight.

Avoiding Obi-Wan had suddenly seemed a lot easier than before, though she couldn’t tell if it was because he no longer was actively seeking her out, like he did before. A part of her almost wished that he was, but that was beside the point.

The only time she spoke to someone was when she ran into Master Plo on the way back to her room one afternoon, hoping that no one would see her at all, especially not any of the Councilors or Masters or Knights, or even Barriss.

More than anything, she wanted to be _alone_. She needed time to think about everything that happened.

But, regardless of what she needed, the Force seemed to think otherwise.

“Hello, little ‘Soka.”

Ahsoka looked up to see Master Plo staring at her, bowing his head slightly in greeting. The usual sparkle in his eye seemed only slightly dimmer than normal, though she couldn’t exactly say why. Was it the war, or…

Or something else?

“Hello, Master Plo,” she replied, returning the greeting.

The Jedi Master’s eyes crinkled slightly, which Ahsoka knew meant that he was smiling at her underneath his mask.

“How are you, little one?” he asked.

“I’m…alright, I suppose,” she answered, though she didn’t really feel alright at all. She felt the exact _opposite_ of alright—whatever that was supposed to be.

Master Plo knelt down and gently placed his hands on her shoulders, eyes sparkling with a mixture of kindness and understanding.

“I have noticed that you’ve been handling Master Skywalker’s passing very well, Ahsoka. You’ve remained calm in the wake of such terrible tragedy, and that is not an easy thing to do,” he said quietly.

 _Calm?_ She hadn’t been calm at _all_ in the past few days. She’d felt off-kilter and unbalanced for days; she wanted nothing more than to scream her agony into the Force, and sometimes she felt as though she was doing exactly that.

How could he think that she was being _calm_?

“Oh, no, I’m not—” she stuttered, unsure of what to say.

“I am very sorry for your loss,” Master Plo continued. “If you need anything at all, I hope you would speak to me.”

Ahsoka nodded slowly. “Okay, Master Plo,” she said. “Thank you.”

Master Plo’s eyes crinkled again as he pulled himself to his feet and strode away, leaving Ahsoka more confused than before.

She walked back to her quarters deep in thought, hoping she would run into no one else.

When she slipped into her quarters, Ahsoka let out a sigh of relief.

 _Finally_.

She was alone.

Ahsoka leaned against the door, looking into the small sitting area, heart leaping to her throat.

Anakin had left bits and pieces of his projects around, on the tables and the couches. It was a habit of his. He _hated_ cleaning. Haphazard piles of droid and lightsaber parts decorated the tables, scattered in and out of the large array of tools lying about. Datapads, probably filled with forms and other documents that her Master had meant to attend to after returning to the Temple, lay across the kitchen counter and the sofas in a state of wild disarray.

It was a place that Ahsoka had called home for a long time, but something had changed. The sight of _Anakin_ ’s belongings, just left behind, as though they didn’t matter…

It was _wrong_.

Taking a few uneven steps forward, Ahsoka reached for the extra lightsaber pommel that Anakin always kept in their quarters as a backup. It was on the floor as though discarded in a hurry. She picked it up, wincing as hints of Anakin’s Force presence echoed through the contact; it felt almost like a memory. A very sad memory.

She just…missed him _so_ much.

Sighing, Ahsoka placed the spare part on a side table. For the next hour, she continued reaching for everything that Anakin had left scattered around their quarters, boxing each item one by one. With each abandoned artifact, she could feel her Master’s presence somehow lingering in the Force, a feeling that extinguished as she placed it in the box held under the crook of her arm.

Soon enough, all of Anakin’s loose items were gathered up in some semblance of an arrangement; his clothes, which were previously discarded in his room in a chaotic order, sat atop the nearest table, neatly folded. It was the best she could do for now; maybe later, she could properly pack them away…

Exhaling, she sat down heavily on the sofa. Cleaning was exhausting work, but now she felt as though she could finally breathe. The Force was quiet and clear, as though the act of putting all of Anakin’s belongings onto the side table clarified everything in her mind.

She felt... _calmer_ , somehow.

Ahsoka let out another breath before she dove into the Force, reaching out for the only bond she had left. So far, it had been fairly silent, but somehow she felt that the silence was a deception.

It was about time she stopped hiding.

* * *

The Temple seemed unnaturally empty that morning when Obi-Wan made his way towards the larger apartments in the residential wing from his quarters. It was as if the place had vacated overnight, leaving only himself and the occasional group of Padawans to populate the building.

It was the damned war playing tricks on him again. Before the Jedi had gained a military status, the Temple had always seemed ready to burst with life. It was disheartening to see such a once-lively place left deserted, bled dry by the demands of the war. 

He’d already been forced to leave Padmé’s apartment in a rush, drawn into yet another last-minute Council meeting over a recent development at the Outer Rim. Council Member Even Piell had reported that he had discovered the long-awaited coordinates to the Nexus Route hyperspace lane.

Unfortunately, the Jedi Master had also announced that he was under attack by a Separatist fleet. The outcome, according to Piell, seemed optimistic, but the communication had been disrupted towards the end of the conversation. Now, all they could do was wait. 

Stepping from the lift, Obi-Wan found the door to Anakin and Ahsoka’s quarters. He could sense her inside, an oddly calm presence when compared to the previous chaotic storm. He knocked, hefting the bundle of Anakin’s prosthetic arm against his side to prevent it from falling.

There was a moment’s pause before the door hissed open, revealing a tired-looking Ahsoka. Instantly, her eyes shifted to the bundle in his arms, but then she pulled them away, looking up at him with barely-concealed curiosity shining in her eyes..

“Master Kenobi?”

“Hello, Ahsoka,” he said, smiling. “May I come in?” It felt awkward, almost painfully so, but in his heart he knew it was right, especially after the events on Mortis. Their talk was long overdue.

After a short pause, Ahsoka nodded.

“Of course.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t help but notice her slight hesitation. A part of him wanted to ask, but he repressed the urge. 

In the time since he’d last been there, Ahsoka’s quarters had undergone a rather drastic change. It made sense, however, since the last time he’d visited, Anakin had also been residing there…Despite the fact that Jedi were not supposed to have many personal items, Anakin had always managed to accumulate a number of small items—whether it be tools, spare lightsaber pieces, or other parts. In Jedi standards, that many items made a the quarters feel as though it was populated by five Anakin Skywalkers. Obi-Wan had felt nothing but exasperation at the behavior.

Being a suite, Anakin and Ahsoka’s quarters were much more spacious than his own, only making the emptiness seem more potent, more obvious in the atmosphere.

His eyes scraped across the room, noting the pillow and blanket set on one of the two spartan sofas taking up the center of the room, the empty table set between them. A pang of sorrow ran through Obi-Wan as he remembered the pile of stuff that had always smothered the small coffee table. Both Qui-Gon and Anakin had possessed the same habit of stacking their travelling cloak and bag on there, drowning whatever was on its surface -not to mention the table itself. Ahsoka, clearly had returned it to is official designation as a half-full glass of water rested peacefully atop a plain ceramic coaster.

“I see you’ve redecorated,” he remarked, keeping his voice even.

Ahsoka let out a breath. “It feels better this way. Master, would you like some tea?”

“If you wouldn’t mind,” he replied.

She smiled and bustled into the kitchen.

While Ahsoka busied herself with making tea, Obi-Wan found himself approaching the far corner of the room. It seemed to be the only untouched portion of the quarters—a small cabinet pressed against the window. A very familiar folded tunic sat there along with a comlink, tablet, and several other odd items. Grief curled deep in his stomach as he realized that Ahsoka had built a sort of shrine for her former Master.

Tentatively, he placed the bundle next to the tunic, letting it settle comfortably between it and the data chips lying next to it. The numbness from the night before was threatening to return, creeping up from the pit of his stomach like a slow-acting poison. He crushed the emotion before it had a chance to grow any further.

By the time the tea was ready, marking Ahsoka’s return, Obi-Wan had already made himself comfortable in the free sofa, his arms folded and eyes fixed on the wall some three or four meters away. His mind had long since snapped back to Mortis—as it often did since their fateful return.

Ahsoka came back into the room, expression bright, breaking his train of thought as she placed a steaming mug on the table beside him; the other was clasped in her other hand, claimed as her own. With a noisy sigh, she plopped down onto the blanket, shifting the pillow out of the way so that she could sit properly.

“Thank you.” Obi-Wan smiled at her again, pausing to take the mug into his hand before finally taking the plunge. “How are you, Ahsoka?” he asked gently, painfully aware of the flare of grief from the other end of their light bond.

The light in her eyes died almost instantly.

“I’m…alright, I suppose,” she replied after a slight hesitation. “I…” At the loss of words, she shrugged, running a finger across the rim of the mug.

“It’s been a rough couple of days for me.”

Obi-Wan hadn’t expected too detailed of a reply, but nodded all the same, despite the fact that it was a massive understatement. The look in her eyes spoke volumes. “I understand, Ahsoka,” he replied, bowing his head slightly.

A moment’s silence fell over the pair as Ahsoka absently swirled the tea in her mug, her hand tightly gripping onto the blank ceramic.

“I thought you were lying to me,” she finally burst out. “I thought you didn’t care about him at all.” Expression twisting, she stared at the floor, gnawing at her lower lip. Anxiety filled the air, potent in the Force.

A sliver of Ahsoka’s anxiety threaded its way into Obi-Wan’s stomach as he remembered Ahsoka’s actions over the past few days, the echoing cries of her despair still fresh in his memory.

The worried face of Cody on the bridge of the _Resolute_ , the argument that they’d had in Ahsoka’s quarters, the way that she’d run off of the ship…and the Council room…she had been so alone, so devastated. 

And he hadn’t known how to act, how to be there for her like he’d always needed someone to be there for him after Qui-Gon died—or rather how there _hadn’t_ been anyone there except for the Temple mind-healers whom he avoided at all costs and Anakin: a boy who had just been thrown into a whole new world.

“Ahsoka, I was wrong to treat you like I did. I’m sorry.”

Eyes shining, Ahsoka seemed as though she were blinking back tears. When she spoke, however, her voice was strong and steady, surprisingly so. “No, Master, it was me.”

Obi-Wan blinked.

“You were trying to tell me what had happened and I never let you,” Ahsoka continued, her voice becoming increasingly choked. “I never gave you a chance to even start...I was so afraid...”

Leaning forwards, Obi-Wan set down the mug on the table with a soft _clink_. She was about to enter into a relentless cycle of self-incrimination; he could just feel it. That was something he couldn’t allow.

“It’s…Ahsoka, you had every right to be upset. It’s only natural to feel that way,” he replied. Ahsoka looked up, her gaze fixed into his, eyes widening. Obi-Wan exhaled slowly before he continued. “And I happen to know that he would be very proud of you right now.”

“I just wish I could’ve done more, Master,” she choked. “I keep seeing Mortis over and over. I keep seeing him…”

Ahsoka was shaking, her face scrunching up as she turned away. Over their bond, Obi-Wan could feel her struggling to contain herself again. He nudged her gently and prodded a bit, once again letting emotions flow back down their bond. Exhaling, he released the second-hand emotions out into the Force in a great wave. Exhaustion weighed at his limbs—a slight warning that he couldn’t keep it up forever—but Ahsoka seemed to have regained control.

“With all due respect, Master,” she whispered,turning back towards him, “I’m a Jedi, we can’t have—”

Obi-Wan raised his hand to silence her, but then he hesitated.

“I’m sorry Master,” she sighed, immediately sitting up straight and rubbing her eyes furiously. “I shouldn’t be saying this.”

Putting aside what he’d planned to say for later, Obi-Wan smiled at her, noting how much she was mirroring Anakin’s way of dealing with guilt.

“Don’t apologize,” he said gently.

They fell into a comfortable silence. Ahsoka glanced back to the table in the corner, clearly having spotted the bundle. She turned away with a pained expression on her face, the mug pressed to her lips to hide the growing frown.

And as for Obi-Wan, he watched her out of the corner of his eye, mentally keeping tabs on her in the Force.

While he’d had his initial hesitations, there was no doubt now that Ahsoka Tano was deeply rooted in the light. Even with her grief, her anger, and desperation from the previous days, there was no way that she was falling. What had been a wavering belief, days before, had become a steely resolve. She was letting go already, willing herself to move on.

It was a quality that had been far beyond his comprehension at her age. And coming from a Padawan whose Master struggled with attachment with every passing day, it was very impressive.

Ahsoka broke the silence, her voice wavering slightly. “How did you— _deal_ with it? With Master Qui-Gon?”

Sitting back, Obi-Wan allowed a deep sigh to leave his body. How _had_ he dealt with his Master’s death?

He remembered an empty room, oppressive and devoid of life. His family, consisting of his Master and a few choice friends had all died, left the Temple, or moved on. The only company left had been the mind healers who he avoided like the plague and the other Jedi who, had they discovered the imbalance within, would have frowned and condemned him. And so the newly-knighted Obi-Wan Kenobi shut himself away from the world, fighting the Darkness completely alone.

Anakin Skywalker had become an instant celebrity in the Temple. He was the Chosen One, brash and bold, a much better pilot than most Masters at age eleven, and rebellious with a streak of arrogance that even Master Yoda could not break. The boy had been Obi-Wan’s unwitting lifeline, somehow holding him together even when all had seemed to be lost.

Qui-Gon’s dying wish had been for Anakin to become a Jedi, and Obi-Wan was willing to do _anything_ that make that happen. It gave his life a purpose in the wake of loss. Gradually, the raw grief had retreated into the corner of his mind, masked from the outside world, yet ever-present and waiting to surface. Now, nearly a decade’s worth of mental shielding had packed it so deep into his mind that he rarely felt it, save for the most vulnerable of moments.

Ahsoka shifted, moving instinctively closer, as though she could feel his deeply-hidden sadness from the memory.

“It was a very difficult part of my life…” Obi-Wan admitted, allowing himself to shorten the explanation. It was best for him to…not overwhelm her with everything that had happened. “I was very lost after the events of Naboo, and it nearly destroyed who I was.”

Eyes wide, Ahsoka leaned towards him. “But how did you get through it?” Her voice sounded almost desperate. 

Obi-Wan let out a dry laugh that scraped harshly against his throat.

“It’s not a very simple answer, Ahsoka. In the time that followed the death of my Master, I felt like I’d lost everything in my life. I didn’t know what to do. I’d sworn that I’d train Anakin but I just didn’t know how. Healing from that...”

Voice trailing off, he sighed heavily, keenly aware of the fact that Ahsoka was hanging on to his every word. As he thought carefully of how to phrase what came next, the room fell completely silent. 

“…It took time,” he said finally, voice soft. “But I will say that training Anakin kept me moving forward. It gave me purpose.”

Ahsoka’s eyes brightened slightly “So…you’re saying I just need to find something to focus on?”

Leaning back into the sofa, Obi-Wan leaned his head back. “Well…yes and no.”

Blue eyes met his as he leaned forward again, balancing his elbows on his knees, staring at the floor in front of him. “Ahsoka, I made so many mistakes in the past, and now I am asking you to please listen to me. Do not close yourself away from the world.” He looked back up at her to see her staring back at him, eyes wide.

“I know, as Jedi, we’ve always been told to release our emotions to the Force, but…you cannot ignore them. You cannot push them away and pretend that they do not exist. It’s…” He exhaled, releasing another bout of pent-up emotions into the Force.

Lips parted slightly, Ahsoka stared at him, clearly taking in every word he said. Obi-Wan couldn’t remember the last time he’d opened up to someone like this.

“It only leads to more pain and darkness. I never told Anakin, never let him know how much Qui-Gon’s death affected me. In my ignorance, I never properly grieved for my Master.”

He felt Ahsoka’s surprise ring out into the Force, but he continued onwards, letting the words fall easily from his mouth. “I thought that I could hide my pain from the world, from Anakin, and from myself. It took a very long time just for me to stop seeing my Master wherever I went.”

Ahsoka looked stunned, “Oh…Force…” she breathed. “Master, that’s a _lot_.”

Obi-Wan found himself suddenly unable to meet her eyes. Had he said too much? Just like the young Anakin Skywalker, who first arrived at the Temple all those years ago, Ahsoka was pure, untouched and unaffected by the darkness that had easily seeped into his own life. 

An icy dagger pierced his stomach as a thought crossed his mind. Had he ever _told_ Anakin that he was proud of him? Proud of the man his former-apprentice had become? He tried to push away the thoughts, but found that they were too persistent and stubborn to leave.

He only had a moment’s warning to turn his head aside before Ahsoka plowed into him, throwing him sideways across the sofa, her arms wrapping around him in a bear hug. Her shoulders trembled slightly. Slowly, he relaxed under his Grandpadawan’s grip and accepted the embrace. It seemed that it had been the right thing to do, for not two seconds later, he felt Ahsoka’s pent-up emotions flow easily out into the Force.

After several minutes, Ahsoka pulled away and wiped her eyes.

Grabbing their empty mugs, Obi-Wan walked to the kitchen with the intent of cleaning up, only to be brought back to the sitting room rather quickly as a wave of sadness filled the Force.

When he walked back into the room, he saw that Ahsoka had found the bundle on top of Anakin’s tunic. Letting out a sigh, she pulled back the rough cloth around the severed limb. Half-way through unwrapping it, however, she froze, withdrawing the cylindrical form of her Master’s lightsaber. She weighed it in her hand for a moment before turning to him, her eyes wide.

“Master, I can’t—”

Obi-Wan let out a dry laugh. Sometimes Ahsoka was too modest for her own good. “Ahsoka, I want you to keep it.”

“But—”

He raised his eyebrows at her, and Ahsoka clamped her jaw shut.

“I…thank you, Master.”

Smiling, Obi-Wan turned back to the kitchen, only to be interrupted yet again, this time by his commlink. Swallowing his irritation, he answered the call curtly.

“Kenobi here.”

Mace’s voice filled the air. _“I need you in the briefing room in half an hour. There’s been a situation.”_

“Understood.” Obi-Wan deactivated the link and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Judging by Mace’s tone of voice, he was likely facing another mission.

Footsteps approached the doorway and Ahsoka entered, staring up at him worriedly. Obi-Wan felt his expression fall as he realized the implications of having to leave on another mission so soon after Mortis.

“It appears that I’m needed,” he said softly. “I am sorry, Ahsoka, but this may mean that I’ll be leaving soon.”

Ahsoka briefly seemed upset, but quickly shook herself free of the emotion. “…Oh. Okay.”

“If I am leaving today, I’ll make sure to speak to you before I leave.”

Nodding, Ahsoka walked him to the door, her expression carefully neutral. Hand on the door’s control-panel, Obi-Wan paused.

“Ahsoka, if you ever like any help dealing with grief, I’d be happy to meditate with you. I should have time after the briefing.”

Ahsoka looked back at him almost shyly. “I think I’d like that.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Then I’ll meet you here afterwards—if that’s alright?”

“Sure. Thank you, Master Kenobi.”

The trip back to his quarters seemed even longer than before, probably because he now had a reason to half-dread what arriving there would mean. It meant business, war, and death, a lifestyle which had fast become what was considered normal.

Talking with Ahsoka had reminded him just how much had changed, how the war had taken the Jedi’s perspective on reality and thrown it into a blender, tearing apart the ‘peacekeeper’ title and replacing it with ‘soldier’ and ‘warrior.’ He felt exhausted and stretched thin, weak and hesitant to return to the fight.

Finally entering the small, minimalistic room, he stopped in the entryway and stared vacantly into the mirror across from the doorway. He looked pale and disheveled, but that wasn’t exactly surprising considering the circumstances.

Sighing once more, Obi-Wan made his way the fresher with the intention of washing up before the briefing.

One thing was for certain: It was going to be a very long day.

* * *

Pausing at the door outside of the briefing room, Obi-Wan took a deep breath.

Anakin’s death was so different from Qui-Gon’s that Obi-Wan didn’t exactly know what he was supposed to do. Years ago, he’d thrown himself into work as a distraction from his own pain, an excuse not to think about the red-tattooed Sith responsible for killing his Master. Now, there was only the emptiness and reality. And yet, there was still the lure of denial, just as present as it had been earlier.

He shook his head. There was no choice now; he was needed for the war effort, and for now, that came first, before anything else.

Obi-Wan pressed the button on the side of the door and walked into the briefing room. Directly in his line of sight stood Master Windu, intently studying a holomap. Next to him was Cody and two clones from the 501st, Fives and Echo, along with a hologram of Rex.

The clones looked up at him, eyes shining with curiosity.

 _They’re wondering if the Council received the request_.

Not long after the Council meeting, Captain Rex sent in a request for the 501st to stay together despite the loss of their general. Rex had also asked that the 501st be merged with the 212th, putting all of Anakin’s men directly under Obi-Wan’s command.

The Council hadn’t exactly made a decision yet, considering everything that had happened in the past few days, but…

It would only be a matter of time.

Obi-Wan smiled gently at the clones before turning towards Master Windu. “Hello, Master Windu,” he greeted, nodding slightly.

Master Windu returned the nod, eyes flicking away from the hologram momentarily to look at Obi-Wan. “Master Kenobi,” he replied.

“You said there was a situation,” Obi-Wan said, moving closer to the hologram to study it. It appeared to be a map of some sort, though he couldn’t exactly figure out what exactly it was supposed to be. “What happened?”

He had a feeling he knew already.

Master Windu let out a quiet sigh. “Earlier today, we received word that Master Piell was taken hostage while returning from the Outer Rim,” he explained, gesturing towards the comm unit.

Obi-Wan shook his head, stroking his beard. “That’s not good,” he replied, looking up from the hologram at Master Windu. “Master Piell has the coordinates for the Nexus Route.”

Master Windu nodded gravely. “We suspect that he has been taken to the Citadel.”

Just as he finished speaking, the door slid open. 

“Apologies for the delay,” Master Plo rumbled as he walked in, followed closely by the last person Obi-Wan expected to see at the moment.

As she walked in, Ahsoka’s eyes widened in surprise as a few barely recognizable emotions flickered through their bond, so quickly that Obi-Wan almost didn’t notice them.

Obi-Wan blinked and bowed stiffly to the Kel Dor Master. “Hello, Master Plo,” he said, then turned towards his Grandpadawan. “Ahsoka.”

Master Windu cleared his throat sharply, and Obi-Wan turned towards him again.

“As I was saying,” Master Windu continued, glancing around at Obi-Wan, Plo, Ahsoka, and the clones, “Master Piell has been taken hostage and transported here.” He gestured to the hologram.

“I see,” Plo replied, voice serious. His eyes scanned through the hologram, studying it carefully.

“As you might know, the Citadel is the Separatists’ most isolated and impenetrable detention facility.” Master Windu explained. “No one has ever escaped, and their security has prevented us from obtaining any reconnaissance information.”

Master Plo nodded. “There are a few other facilities across the Outer Rim,” he said. “So far we’ve been able to neutralise two of them, but they have all been extremely difficult to approach and ever more difficult to destroy. This one, in particular—” He pointed at the holo, brows furrowed. “—has _quite_ the reputation.”

Master Windu nodded, humming softly. “Even with all our technological advancements, we could not get close enough to get accurate readings. We’ve been forced instead to create a crude map based on data from the Archives,” he said, then pressed a button next to the hologram.

A hologram of a basic map, along with some data, appeared on the holotable.

Master Plo stared at the data for a few long moments, then he nodded, almost in recognition or understanding. “I am familiar with the data; it is very old and will prove difficult to rely on.”

Cody shifted slightly. “Sir, we’re going in blind?” he asked.

Plo nodded solemnly.

Obi-Wan glanced at Ahsoka, whose gaze shifted from Cody back to Obi-Wan. Her face was expressionless, almost a mask.

_It’s too early for her to go on a mission. She’s only just accepted Anakin’s death; we can’t just…_

“Well,” Obi-Wan began, clearing his throat slightly. “We’ll just have to find a way to get inside and rescue Master Piell, then.”

When no one replied immediately, he plowed on. “We’ll just have to be the first to escape the Citadel,” he said, smiling softly. “There _is_ a first time for everything, after all.”

Rex’s hologram flickered before he spoke. _“Begging your pardon, General, but how do we know Master Piell is still alive?”_

Obi-Wan turned towards him. “The Separatists won’t dare kill Master Piell until they have what they need.”

_And Master Piell would never give them what they need, no matter the circumstance._

“Master Piell obtained the coordinates of the Nexus Route, which travels into the heart of both the Republic and Separatist homeworlds,” Master Plo explained.

Rex nodded in understanding.

The coordinates were a piece of vital information; it was imperative that the information was returned to the Republic as soon as possible.

If the Separatists were to get their hands on it, it was very likely that Coruscant would be their next target.

“We cannot risk the coordinates falling into Separatist hands,” Mace said, echoing Obi-Wan’s thoughts. He turned to look at Plo, folding his arms. “It’s simply too dangerous.”

“Then we have little choice,” Plo replied, voice quiet. “We must depart for the Citadel as soon as possible.”

Obi-Wan nodded in agreement before looking at Ahsoka again. She appeared to be just as stoic as before, but he could sense her confusion, her emotions thrumming along their bond all-too-easily.

_Why would Master Plo ask her to come on this mission so soon after Anakin’s death?_

Obi-Wan turned back towards Master Windu, focusing on the conversation at hand. “The life-form scanners will be difficult to fool,” he observed, scanning through the data. “Do we have a plan?

Master Windu nodded. “I think I know a way to get in without detection from the life-form scanners,” he began. He turned towards the holotable and pulled up an unfamiliar diagram.

“About a year ago, Republic scientists developed a vitals suppressor as a defense mechanism for teams scouting the _Malevolence_ in the event of them being picked up by enemy scanners,” Master Windu explained, gesturing towards the hologram. “But, as you all know, the ship was destroyed. It was destroyed before the drug could be put into use.”

Master Plo nodded, crossing his arms thoughtfully. “So we would be given a dosage for long enough to get through the scanners,” he realized. He hummed, as though he was deep in thought.

Echo stiffened, his discomfort slipping easily out into the Force. Fives glanced at him. Though his features were mostly blank, there was a hint of discomfort to his Force presence as well.

“A vitals suppressor,” Echo mused. “So…we’re going to be _dead_?”

Smiling wryly, Obi-Wan tilted his head slightly towards them. “Technically…no, but it should work,” he replied.

Master Windu nodded, his expression serious. “The 212th and 501st will accompany you on this mission, along with the 104th,” he said, turning towards Rex’s hologram, “but we will discuss your request at a later time, Captain.”

Ahsoka let out a quiet sigh of relief.

Rex nodded. “Thank you, Sir.”

“Any questions?” Master Windu asked, eyes scanning the room. When no one responded, he continued. “Master Kenobi, Master Plo, I’ll send along information about the departure. In the meantime, you’re all dismissed. May the Force be with you.”

“And with you,” Plo replied, turning and walking towards the door, followed closely by Ahsoka. Obi-Wan nodded at Mace before following them, gathering his thoughts.

Once they were outside the briefing room, Master Plo paused midstep, turning to face Obi-Wan. “Master Kenobi,” he rumbled, “I sense that you wish to speak with me?”

Master Plo must have sensed… _something_ from him, though Obi-Wan couldn’t exactly say what. He was _sure_ his shields didn’t slip, that his actions revealed nothing about what he was feeling or thinking.

_Or maybe not._

Ahsoka nodded, as though she realized she did not need to be a part of this conversation. “I will be in my quarters,” she murmured, turning around and walking away before Obi-Wan could say anything else to her.

Sighing, Obi-Wan turned towards Plo, who gestured at him to walk with him. They walked slowly down the hall, towards the Room of a Thousand Fountains.

Obi-Wan exhaled slowly before speaking. “I worry that it is too early for Ahsoka to be going on a mission like this, Master,” he admitted.

_It may be too early for me as well, but there is nothing that can be done about that._

Master Plo hummed, bowing his head. “Losing a Master takes a heavy toll on the Padawan,” he mused.

Obi-Wan nodded. “She’s only just beginning to heal from the initial shock,” he replied. It had only been a few scant hours since their first proper conversation since Mortis, and even though Ahsoka was a lot more calm than before, she was grieving, _mourning_ her loss.

Plo sighed, the sound muffled slightly by his mask. “I understand that, Obi-Wan,” he said, “but I also believe that Ahsoka will not find comfort here. If she is anything like Skywalker, she will very soon see the Temple as a cage.”

“That makes sense.” 

Obi-Wan found himself thinking of those first months after Naboo all those years ago, when it seemed _everyone_ was watching him, as though they were just _waiting_ for something to happen. Qui-Gon’s death had shaken the Order in a way that hadn’t been seen in almost a millennium. And Obi-Wan had rapidly found himself at the center of the spotlight with a target painted to his back. The Jedi had been watching him closely—for the better or worse.

What made matters worse was that he _never_ liked that sort of attention. He’d despised it especially during those first days. The Temple had felt so unforgiving and judgmental, almost as it had seemed in the time spent before his apprenticeship. Oh, how he wished he could just escape it all, even for a few hours.

Obi-Wan shook his head. Now was hardly the time for such thoughts. “This is a dangerous mission even for Knighted Jedi, but if it’s what Ahsoka needs to heal, then…”

_Then who am I to stop her?_

Plo’s eyes crinkled, and Obi-Wan felt a hint of affection and kindness emanating from his presence.

“And how are you?” the Jedi asked, tilting his head. “Losing Skywalker must have been difficult for you as well.”

Obi-Wan sighed and stopped at a window, staring out into Coruscant’s endless skyline for a brief moment.

“I must admit that I haven’t been myself since returning,” he said softly. In truth, until earlier that day, he hadn’t stopped moving; he hadn’t _allowed_ himself to stop and truly understand the implications of his failures, of the fact that he’d lost his Padawan in more ways than one.

“Anakin was like a brother in so many ways,” he murmured, more to himself. “Losing him was…difficult for me to handle at first.”

Even now it was difficult, but…but he had no choice but to keep moving. The war was not over yet and, until it had, there would be no rest for any of them.

“He reminded you of your Master.” Plo’s voice was quiet, yet certain. It was a statement, not a question.

Obi-Wan let out a sigh before nodding. “He’s—he was very much like Qui-Gon,” he said softly, almost whispering. “There were days when he acted so much like Qui-Gon that I forgot who I was really talking to. Anakin took after him in many ways, I suppose.”

Master Plo hummed in agreement. “Qui-Gon Jinn was certainly unorthodox in his ways,” he replied. “I saw the same in Skywalker—and I see it in Ahsoka now.”

Obi-Wan snorted, turning away from the window to look at the Kel Dor Master. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t seen the similarities between the three Jedi, it was just that he hadn’t realized anyone else had made the connection.

“His legacy lives on, then,” Obi-Wan muttered.

Plo chuckled lightly, pulling his hands into the sleeves of his robe. The sight of it seemed to make him appear to be more relaxed, more like the Jedi Obi-Wan always remembered him to be, especially during his Padawan days.

The war had even changed Master Plo in ways that he had not expected. Well, then again, the war had changed them all.

“Ahsoka tells me that you two have spoken to one another,” Plo said gently, breaking Obi-Wan out of his thoughts. “She was in quite a state of distress shortly after the Council meeting.”

The Council meeting had been disastrous, to say the least. In its aftermath, Obi-Wan had found himself stunned, confused, and unable to do much more than lock himself in his quarters and ponder.

Even now, he wasn’t sure if he was ready, but enough time had passed. He had little choice but to go onwards.

“She was,” Obi-Wan replied. He paused, unsure of exactly how much he should reveal about what happened. “I…I thought it would be best to give her some space before I tried speaking with her again,” he admitted.

Plo nodded, eyes crinkling slightly. “I assume that whenever she saw you, she would only see Skywalker,” he rumbled.

Obi-Wan turned away from the window and looked directly at him, eyebrows raised. He never thought himself to be similar to Anakin, but maybe to Ahsoka, he served as a reminder of her loss.

“In many ways, she saw you as her Master almost as much as her own.” Plo’s voice came smoothly, but it did nothing to prevent the shock that coursed through his veins.

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened as he leaned forward onto the railings of the window, staring out into the endless lines of Coruscant’s traffic. He suddenly felt off-balance, as though the ground was rising up to swallow him whole. Focusing on the sun setting in the distance, the speeders flying through the sky, he released the shock into the Force. He closed his eyes.

Plo hummed, as though he easily sensed Obi-Wan’s surprise in the Force. “You didn’t know?” he asked.

Exhaling slowly, Obi-Wan shook his head. “I had no idea,” he murmured. He pulled himself away from the railing, opening his eyes and turning towards Plo.

Plo’s eyes crinkled even more, and Obi-Wan felt warmth emanating easily from his Force presence. “Since the war began, I have seen the deaths of many Jedi,” he said. “Not many Masters survive long enough to have a Grandpadawan. Just as not many Padawans survive long enough to become acquainted with their Grandmasters.”

Obi-Wan blinked. He never thought about it that way; Anakin’s Knighting and Ahsoka becoming Anakin’s Padawan all just... _happened_ , and with the war and everything else happening, Obi-Wan never had the chance to stop and consider what all of that meant.

“I…I suppose you’re right,” he said finally. The realization settled cold in his chest: he was one of very few living Jedi to have a Grandpadawan. And now that Anakin was dead, what did that all _mean_?

“And Ahsoka would benefit most from staying in the same lineage after Skywalker’s passing,” Plo continued, tilting his head slightly.

Obi-Wan froze, eyes widening. “Master, I am not ready for another Padawan, and I can’t possibly—” He cut himself off, unsure of what to say.

Before Ahsoka became Anakin’s Padawan, Obi-Wan had requested for a Padawan. He expected it to be Ahsoka, but after Christophsis, after Master Yoda decided that Anakin needed a Padawan instead of him, he realized the truth.

He was not ready, not with the war and being on the Council, and…

Plo sighed, shoulders sagging slightly.

“Because of the war, we both know that the Council will move to appoint her a new Master as soon as possible,” he said. “This mission is all that stands between Ahsoka and her choice— _or_ the Council’s, if it comes to that.”

It all made sense now—Master Plo inviting Ahsoka to the briefing, her coming with them to the Citadel. Soon, she would have to make a decision, one that would change her life, and even if he believed that she would benefit from someone else being her Master, he would support her.

After all, Plo had brought Ahsoka to the Temple, and they were already very close. It would be better for her to choose Plo, not a Jedi seemingly stuck in the throes of grief, of loss.

“That’s true,” Obi-Wan said slowly, nodding. “Are they really making Padawans choose so soon?”

Plo nodded. “The war is dictating us all. I just wish that it wasn’t this way.”

“As do I,” Obi-Wan agreed.

“Then you will think about what I have said?” the other Jedi asked.

Exhaling, Obi-Wan slowly nodded. “I will…consider the option, yes,” he answered.

_I will consider it, but you and I both know that it should be you, not me._

Plo’s eyes crinkled again as the slump to his shoulders seemed to fade away. “Good,” he rumbled. “I will see you before we depart, then.”

Obi-Wan nodded and watched as Plo turned away. “Master Plo?”

Plo paused before turning back towards him.

Obi-Wan smiled lightly, through the confusion and sadness that surrounded him like a cloud. “Thank you,” he murmured.

Plo nodded, eyes sparkling. “If you ever need anything, Obi-Wan, feel free to ask.” His voice was calm and certain, and Obi-Wan found himself remembering Plo saying the exact same thing years ago, after Qui-Gon’s death.

Obi-Wan nodded again. He watched as Plo turned around and walked away, leaving Obi-Wan by the window, staring out at Coruscant’s evening traffic.

_Maybe I wasn’t as alone as I thought._

* * *

About half way to Senator Amidala’s apartment, Ahsoka realized that she probably should have commed ahead of time. She knew that Obi-Wan had spoken to Padmé about what happened, but Ahsoka hoped to see her before leaving for the Citadel. Ahsoka didn’t know how she would respond to her just showing up at her door, but…

She needed to see the Senator, regardless.

There was the fact that Padmé should have something of Anakin’s to remember him by, and Ahsoka had more of Anakin’s belongings than she was prepared to have.

Sighing, Ahsoka sped into the apartment complex and towards the parking garage. She landed the speeder and grabbed the bag before making her way to the turbolift.

Instead of giving in to the urge to pace during the brief journey up to the Senator’s floor, Ahsoka stared out the glass window into the tall buildings in the distance, into Coruscant’s gorgeous skyline, giving herself a moment to let her mind drift elsewhere.

The lift came to a quiet stop and the doors slid open. Ahsoka exhaled and walked out, right hand tightly clenched around the handle of the bag. Slowly, she walked forward to Padmé’s front door and rang the buzzer.

After a couple long seconds, she heard a quiet exclamation from somewhere inside, followed by the sound of hurried, metallic footsteps rushing towards the door. Eventually, C-3PO, the rather annoying communication droid, stepped out, his orb-like yellow eyes gazing up at her.

“Oh, hello, Padawan Tano!” Threepio exclaimed, sounding distinctly surprised to see Ahsoka. “I’m afraid the Senator is not here right now. She has a meeting at the Senate until late in the evening.”

 _Oh_.

Ahsoka was so intent on seeing Padmé that she forgot that the Senator was probably busier than ever. Now, she knew she _definitely_ should have called ahead.

“I see…” she replied, trying not to make her disappointment obvious.

“I will tell her that you stopped by, if you wish,” Threepio replied, tilting his head slightly.

Ahsoka nodded before looking down at the bag. She would have much rather done it in person, but there was no time.

“Could you—could you give this to her when she returns?” she asked softly. “She’ll know what it is.” Reluctantly, Ahsoka handed the bag over to him.

Threepio took the bag, staring down at it for a quick moment before he looked up. “Of course, Padawan Tano,” he replied. “I will pass it along to her.”

Ahsoka smiled gently. “Thanks, Threepio,” she murmured before turning around to leave. She paused and turned back to face him, remembering something else. “If she asks, I’ll be on a mission for the next few days. I’ll try to see her when I return.”

Threepio nodded again. “Very well, Padawan Tano. Best of luck on your mission.”

“Bye, Threepio.” Ahsoka smiled before turning around again and walking back to the lift, somehow feeling lighter than before.

As she boarded her speeder, Ahsoka’s eyes fell to the chronometer on the side of the dash. A spike of panic ran through her like lightning.

_Oh Force, I’m late._

Throwing caution to the winds, she sped through Coruscant’s evening traffic at a nearly breakneck speed, ignoring the angry shouts from other drivers as she swerved around their speeders.

She landed the speeder in the main hangar and raced out to the Healers’ Ward, heart pounding in her chest.

The Force shuddered as she ran into the Ward. She could feel—it wasn’t exactly death, but more of a removal, an omission of Light—ringing out into the Force, almost uncomfortably so. It was unlike anything she’d ever experienced before. She knew what it was, they’d been briefed, but that didn’t make it any easier.

Obi-Wan’s Force presence flickered. 

She let out a quiet gasp before she raced towards the patient rooms, slamming her hand on the button next to the first door. Ahsoka walked in to see her Grandmaster lying on a stretcher, unnaturally still.

“Master?” she whispered, taking a few steps forward.

Nothing. Not a single movement.

She looked up at the vitals monitor, finally noticing the flatline, the muted sound still echoing in her ears as though she could hear it.

 _No_.

“Ahsoka, we just drugged him.”

Ahsoka turned around to see Master Eerin standing at the doorway, her eyes shining with understanding. Of course, they’d all be taking vitals suppressors to get to the Citadel.

This was—this was _supposed_ to happen. Panic fluttered in her chest again, stronger this time. She crushed the feeling.

She nodded slowly. “Okay,” she whispered. “I’m ready.”

The healer nodded, smiling gently before she led Ahsoka to a nearby bed, hooking her up to a vitals monitor. Ahsoka adjusted herself into a comfortable position, lying down on her back as Master Eerin inserted an IV into her wrist.

The Mon Calamari laid a hand on Ahsoka’s shoulder, smiling softly at her.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

Ahsoka nodded. “We’ll all wake up at the Citadel?” she asked, barely managing to keep her voice steady.

“Yes,” Master Eerin answered. “May the Force be with you, Padawan Tano.”

“You too, Master Eerin,” Ahsoka replied.

She barely registered the hiss of a drug being injected into her IV before the room began to blur. The Force suddenly felt far away, difficult to reach. Ahsoka realized that her thoughts were muddled, barely comprehensible, as though she were swimming through layers of mud. Memories of Mortis threatened to overtake her, starting with the blinding white light… had that been the Father? The Son had been so cruel, so evil…

She remembered the terrible yellow eyes and smug smile of her Master as he ignited his lightsaber, his dark presence filling the air.

A sob wormed its way up her throat.

Her Master was truly _gone_.

_I miss you, Anakin._

And then the world faded away as she slipped into unconsciousness.

  



	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The infiltration of the Citadel begins, but what seems like a good start proves to be the trap of the Citadel just waiting to be sprung.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the long wait on this chapter, we both had very thick schedules for the past month and figuring out logistics for the Citadel was a nightmare in itself -well that's a bit of an exaggeration but it really was hard. 
> 
> We hope that this was worth the wait! Both of us are excited for the next chapter so we hope that you stay tuned. 
> 
> ~Lazarus II & Pandora151

_The cave was silent except for the soft crackling of the fire. Light danced off of the crystalline structures to the left, bouncing as it reflected off of each translucent reflective pane, ethereal information and existence. By all natural means, the crystals were impossible, too perfectly formed into diamond-like structures, too smoothly cut, and holding far too much energy._

_But this was Mortis, and there was no telling how any of this could be real in the first place._

_Deep within her mind, Ahsoka recognized the dream. She was here, reliving moments from Mortis…a time that she certainly did not want to ever think about again. And yet the Force was ruthless, pulling at her mind with unrelenting strength and power._

_She’d relived her time spent on the godforsaken planet more times than she could count. Each memory was like a plague, returning to her night after night._

_But this was the first time her mind had returned to the fire, to anything before her capture—and apparent death. Slowly, Ahsoka searched the cave with her eyes, all the while listening to the cacophonous crashing of thunder outside._

_Obi-Wan sat off to her right, absently poking the fire with a stick, sending small showers of sparks into the air. Even as she watched, his head seemed to droop down towards his chest, payment for hours spent on the front lines—not to mention the half-day spent searching for Anakin after their separation. She assumed that Anakin was now with the Father, being lectured on what it means to be the ‘Chosen One.’_

_Renewed grief threatened to swamp her senses. Oh, how she wished that the Force would just stop for one night._

_Her Master was dead, but he had left her even before that._

_Ahsoka stood, stretching, letting the stiffness fall away from hours of sitting. Wordlessly, she approached the nearest crystal and prodded it with a finger. It was oddly slick, as though water had just run across its surface. The texture caught her by surprise, causing her to withdraw. The Force thrummed deep within it, much like the trees and flowers outside._

_Looking around some more, Ahsoka noted the open spaces in the wall, like small offshoots of the original cave, pockets where the smallest crystals shone like starlight. It was hypnotic, beautiful._

_Behind her, there came a soft shuffling sound, making her turn. It was Obi-Wan. Finally beaten by exhaustion, her Grandmaster had fallen back against the low outcropping, his head ducked forwards in sleep._

_All was going just as she remembered it…_

_Then her eyes shifted to the fire._

_It was as though a bolt of electricity had shot through Ahsoka’s body, searing every single nerve with what felt like white-hot flame._

_The figure standing there was tall, very tall, its presence filling the room with an oppressive darkness. Inky-black robes fluttered through the air, torn strips from its hem reaching out to grasp the firelight. It took Ahsoka a moment to realize what was wrong._

_There was no wind._

_Even as she stood rooted to the spot, the room seemed to shrink around her; the shadows cast by the dark figure extended outwards, already enveloping the form of her still-sleeping Grandmaster. The domed helmet glinted wickedly in the dim light as the figure shifted slightly, impassible red lenses fixing their gaze upon her._

_Suddenly, a wave of coldness hit her, and she tried to shiver, only realizing then that she was unable to move. Despite knowing it was a dream, despite all of her senses screaming that it wasn’t real, Ahsoka felt her mind rapidly slipping into panic._

_This felt too familiar._

_Images of Anakin’s yellow eyes flashed through her mind, and she let out a gasp, fighting to reach her lightsabers._

_The hiss of a respirator filled the air, each mechanical breath heavy and labored. Ahsoka was reminded briefly of the medbay oxygen pumps, not the newer ones that the Jedi and Republic used, but the older ones…the ones that could still be found across the Outer Rim, reserved for the critically injured and dying._

_Obi-Wan twitched and moaned in his sleep._

_“Anakin.”_

_She tried to cry out, straining to warn her Grandmaster to run—to get out of here._

_But she could not move._

_As the darkness touched Obi-Wan, his expression changed, his mouth curling into a soft smile. It was as though he were at peace. Heart in her throat, Ahsoka watched as Obi-Wan’s form dissolved into shadows, his lightsaber clattering to the cave floor._

_Then the figure’s attention was back on her, its arm reaching out as though beckoning. She did not understand; what—_

_As if of its own accord, her body broke free of whatever had been holding her prisoner. Inch by inch, she approached the dark figure, her hand rising to take its hand. Every nerve of her body was screaming. It wasn’t right, she had to stop. No—_

_Just as their fingertips brushed, the floor of the cave shattered. Letting out a scream, Ahsoka plummeted downwards into a pitch-black darkness, arms flailing about as she searched for anything to grab hold of. Both the light of the fire and the figure above it shrank into the far distance, becoming nothing more than a pinprick before disappearing entirely._

_Blood pounded in Ahsoka’s ears, and she fought to keep calm, squeezing her eyes tight._

_“It’s a dream, Ahsoka,” she told herself._

_She cracked an eye open and saw nothing but the same oppressive darkness._

_“It’s a dream.”_

_It could have been minutes or hours, but Ahsoka wouldn’t have known the difference, even with the unpredictable nature of dreams. All she knew was that suddenly she was no longer alone._

_Frantic beeping filled the air and she felt her feet hit solid ground, or—more accurately—solid metal._

_They were in freefall, the bow of the shuttle aimed at the ground: a swirling mix of swampland and sparse shrubbery. Rain pelted the glass of the cockpit, adding a dull roar to the howl of atmosphere against an unshielded ship._

_Great bursts of smoke billowed from the dashboard, electricity sizzling through the navicomputer every few seconds; with each passing wave of blue discharge, the fried speakers blared the same clashing set of tones, distorted and nasty as they declared the ship in a state of dire emergency. It was a message that the collapsed pilot could not hear as he slumped forwards over the controls._

_Ahsoka begged and pleaded with the Force right then and there, screaming for her feet to move, for her hand to leave the spot just below the headrest of the passenger’s seat and just kriffing do something. She was stuck, pinned in place as she watched the shallow, stormy waters rush towards Anakin Skywalker’s unconscious body._

_The world erupted into flames, blinding in intensity. Ahsoka threw up her arms and shut her eyes tightly. The heat seared her skin and she cried out in pain as something bit into her left arm._

_Tears streaming down her face, she caught a flash of soot-black smoke and equally darkened skies; a burned finure on the banks of a flaming river, a metallic hand digging into the sand as it dragged itself forwards._

_Then the image was whisked away once more and Ahsoka found herself pulled upwards as her heart beat a fast, irregular tempo into her collarbone. The intensity of the fire was growing, expanding, yet darkening in strength._

_Soon the deep reds of the fire had dimmed into a pale yellow and the dark stone had lightened to a sort of chocolate-brown._

With a quiet exhale, Ahsoka opened tear-stung eyes to see blurred shapes swimming above her. For one moment, she could’ve sworn they were all long stalactites, but then her vision went hazy once more.

A trail of inky darkness, horribly reminiscent of the dark monster of her dreams, swam through the air towards her. Heart thudding in her chest like a drum, she watched with wide eyes as its tendrils approached her body, feeding down from a place far above her field of vision. She tried to sweep them away with a hand, but her arm would not move, instead flopping over her chest rather uselessly.

But it didn’t matter because only moments later, the shadows were gone, banished by a slight prick in her arm from a needle. She blinked hard, wishing that the world could steady itself, as the blurred yellow lights curled in and out of view like unmixed paint off of an old canvas. There was definitely a shape hovering above her right side—it was leaning over. Were those hands on her forearm?

With a groan, she tried to rise. A strong arm pushed her back down.

“—Com —ano, com— der — hear me? Ca— sta— ee”

Who was speaking? Still feeling fuzzy, Ahsoka struggled to understand the voice. It was harsh, electronic in nature, almost as though it was a—

_Droid._

Heart sinking, Ahsoka found herself once more raging against her own body, willing it to _move_. Brain fuzzy, she registered the feeling of her shoulder leaving a soft surface before the world took another spin. Not two seconds later, and she was face-down on stone—that much she _could_ feel; two cold, rough hands hauled her upright by the arms, setting her back onto…well, _whatever_ she’d been lying on.

 _Brain…isn’t…working…_ She realized sluggishly, but then again that much should’ve been obvious, she reasoned to herself.

As the world began to right itself, she realized that there was, in fact, only _one_ droid—or at least one droid who could walk and talk.

The oddly-innocent looking Separatist battle droid stared down at her quizzically, its domed head tipped to one side as it took her in with blank eyes. If not for the neon-blue paint splashed across its body, Ahsoka would had smashed the thing to bits. Artoo rolled up beside the droid, softly bopping it in the knees and almost sending the unsuspecting victim to the ground.

Rubbing her head and rolling her shoulders, Ahsoka let herself become reacclimated to her body. It was safe to say that she felt kriffing terrible—like she’d been run over by a rampaging gundark.

“Commander Tano.” The monotonic voice of the droid pierced her thoughts. “Can you understand me?”

“Yes!” she snapped, irritation creeping into her voice.

Apparently satisfied, the battle droid turned away and proceeded to…

_Kriffing hells…_

Ahsoka propped herself on her elbows, looking out at the landing pad, aghast.

Parked in the entrance of a lava cavern, the ship was covered by what looked like a large ledge on the outside. The ship had docked between the lava and the stone side of the tunnel, giving way to a large, clear area for the team’s recovery.

And recovery did appear to be required from this certain method of entry.

Strewn out on hover-stretchers, the rest of the company lay in neat rows, their bodies lifeless. Rex was beside her, helmet intact, lying comfortably in the stretcher. Obi-Wan and Plo were off to her right, just as silent and still as the others.

Her heart jumped into her throat as the watched them. They were her family; what if they never woke up? What if they—

 _They’re just sleeping,_ Ahsoka told herself, _they will wake up soon…_

As it turned out, the drug was already wearing off and the rest of her team were beginning to awaken—rather loudly at that.

Beside her, Rex heaved in a gasping breath, his fists clenching at his sides. Even as Ahsoka watched, the Captain thrashed where he lay, his masked face whipping from side to side. His discomfort blasted her in the Force, loud and clear, as he fought his way back into the land of the living. It was clear that he was seeing a memory, but Ahsoka was far too shaken to help him; plus, there was no way to know what memory he was even seeing.

Apprehension skyrocketing, Ahsoka turned her attention to the other Jedi, neither of whom were showing signs of life.

Worried, Ahsoka beckoned the nearest droid and pointed at her Masters with a shaky hand.

“Why are they still asleep?” she asked, surprised at how weak her voice sounded.

The reprogrammed battle droid bowed his head. “Just after exiting the shuttle, we had to administer a shot to counteract the drug.”

Ahsoka gaped at the droid, her sluggish brain barely putting two and two together.

She’d read a file on the drug before departure, as everyone had been required to do. Apparently, a dose high enough to fool scanners like the Citadel’s could result in a permanent, comatose state, unless a counteractive drug was introduced, which would wake the patient up within the next hour.

The mission’s information packet had specifically instructed the ‘anti-serum’ _not_ be administered unless the team did not wake up within three hours of landing.

_Three hours._

That was a lot of time.

“How long has it been since we landed?” she asked the droid, passing a hand across her face.

“Approximately three and a half hours, Commander,” came the stiff reply.

 _Kriff._ That would mean that it had only been a half hour since the counteractive drug had been given out.

The next half hour seemed to go by in a haze as Ahsoka waited for her company to awaken. As though she were watching a holovid, she watched Rex nearly decapitate the reprogrammed droid, Cody flail about in his stretcher, and Fives roll about as he clawed at his masked face with desperation; all of them were in some kind of dream, she could feel it in her bones.

Finally, after what felt like years, Master Plo took in a deep, shuddering breath. The Kel Dor Jedi’s rise to consciousness was calm in comparison to everyone else’s—including Ahsoka’s. Propping himself on his elbows, the Jedi Master stared at her for a moment before shifting to look at Obi-Wan, still passed out beside him.

“He will be alright, Padawan.” Plo’s voice snapped Ahsoka out of her stupor, causing her to shrink back.

Had she been that obvious? Blinking, she looked away, embarrassed.

As though he could hear Plo’s voice, Obi-Wan twitched, drawing Ahsoka’s attention almost instantly. An intense wave of grief swamped through their bond, nearly knocking the wind from her lungs before it disappeared, mental shields slamming down around the rogue emotions like an iron gateway.

Ahsoka remained silent and forced herself to calm down.

* * *

The mission was going unusually well. Honestly, it was going better than Obi-Wan expected.

Waking up had been nasty, as he expected, sending him flying through all sorts of terrible memories that he didn’t care to remember. Next, they’d taken down the wall at the end of the tunnel system, blowing down the thin rock barrier between them and the old, deserted, cave system.

So far, nothing really had gone wrong, and Obi-Wan didn’t know whether to be relieved or outright suspicious. Even at the far end of the sulfur-filled passage where they cut their way into the Citadel itself, their path remained clear. It was only when he and his small team entered the ventilation shaft that he began to believe that maybe, _just maybe_ , they had not been detected by enemy sensors.

But his brain would never stop whispering to him that it was a trap.

Shuffling forwards on his hands and knees, back brushing the metal ceiling of the fortress’s ventilation shaft, Obi-Wan paused in order to let the rest of his team catch up. As he turned his head, he narrowly missed banging his head on the wall.

The shaft was narrow even for him, oppressive and constricting in nature, but he had no room to complain—add several inches and multiple layers of plastoid alloy and the explanation for the struggling men behind him was clear. And that was just movement. Their mission was stealth and the metal of the shaft resonated loudly when hit with a plastoid armor plate.

By their lack of detection alone, Obi-Wan realized, now more than ever, that the decision to only take Rex, Cody, Waxer, and Boil with him was a _good_ one.

Anakin would have insisted on everyone staying together on this kind of mission, urging them to enter the Citadel from a more accessible entrance to ensure the safety of everyone on the mission, but…

But he wasn’t Anakin.

And Anakin wasn’t here.

“General?” Cody murmured from somewhere behind him.

Obi-Wan stopped, hunching in order to see the clone Commander right behind him. Over Cody’s shoulder, he could see Rex leaning off to the side in order to see ahead. He couldn’t see any of their faces, but apprehension filled the air, rolling off of his company in waves.

He didn’t blame them. The situation was quite…intense.

“Yes, Cody?” Obi-Wan replied, keeping his voice quiet.

The clone tilted his head slightly in confusion. “Nothing, Sir. I thought I heard something,” he said.

Further down the line of clones, someone snorted. Rex’s head whipped around, and Obi-Wan had the feeling that, had it not been for the mask, the culprit of the noise would’ve received a furious look.

Listening carefully, Obi-Wan looked forwards to the next grate, craning his neck to try and catch a glimpse of something below. Through the narrow bars of metal, he could only see a faint glow from the hallway below.

_It’s too far away. Too far away for me to see anything… Kriff._

But they couldn’t be too careful. Slowly, he raised his right hand in a fist, calling for a halt. For several painful minutes, they stayed there, frozen on the spot.

Nothing.

Obi-Wan smiled softly before turning around and pressing forward once more, his face falling into a frown. He couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was so _wrong_. It was going too smoothly.

And the fact that Ahsoka had felt the same apprehension didn’t help, a feeling that she’d voiced back when they’d first exited the cave. He now agreed wholeheartedly with her.

But he couldn’t afford to think like that. He had to be in the moment, focusing on his own team’s mission. Ahsoka was the last line of defence, guarding the entry point from within the same ventilation shaft he had entered earlier.

She was out of the firefight, safer there. And that gave him comfort.

Behind him, the soft scraping of armor sounded loudly, indicating that the line of clones had just begun to move.

Obi-Wan’s feet had just cleared the grate in the shaft floor when the clank of heavy footsteps filled his ears. Hastily, he motioned for everyone to stop, casting a glance behind him.

Cody was crouched directly on top of the opening, frozen in place with one hand still raised, his head and shoulders in clear view from the hallway. Below him, waves of battle droids marched forwards, their rhythmic footfalls echoing painfully in Obi-Wan’s ears as the sound reverberated within the metal shaft. 

The droids passed slowly, their ranks continuing forwards in an endless stream. So far, not a single one of them had noticed the Clone Commander suspended in the ventilation shaft above them.

Obi-Wan hoped that it would stay that way.

Then a horrible idea crossed his mind as he hastily recalled the layout of the Citadel. Those battle droids were going down the corridor towards the lower levels, back the way that he and the clones had come.

He tapped his wrist comm, calling up the channels to both Plo and Ahsoka.

“There are battle droids below us,” he whispered, “they appear to be heading your way. Stay sharp.”

 _“I read you,”_ Plo’s muffled voice returned.

 _“They’re right below me, Masters.”_ Ahsoka’s response was soft, as though she was whispering as well. _“A group of them just passed the entry point; it looks like we’re in the clear—”_

The air was broken by a shrill wail. Out of instinct, Obi-Wan clapped his hands over his ears, curling downwards as the noise seemed to ricochet through his skull.

He didn’t know how long it took for the battle droids to pass, but as soon as they disappeared from view, Obi-Wan motioned for Cody to move before roughly kicking the grate down. Sticking his head through, Obi-Wan scanned the corridor for droids and security cameras.

“This way is clear,” he murmured before dropping to the floor. Cody, Rex, Waxer, and Boil followed suit, clearly stiff from the long journey through the confinement of the shaft. “We must hurry to the detention center.”

Seemingly undisturbed by the abrupt change in plans, the the clones nodded in agreement, following him as he took off at a run. The alarm continued, ringing loudly and painfully in his ears, but Obi-Wan forced himself to ignore it. There was little time to waste.

Raising his forearm to eye-level, he attempted to contact Ahsoka and Plo. Only Ahsoka responded, her voice hushed and urgent.

_“Master, they’re all around us.”_

“Stay put, Ahsoka, do not engage.”

_“But Master Plo is overrun; the droids are in the tunnels!”_

Obi-Wan slowed to a halt, just short of the next fork in the hallway, crouching behind the entrance to a lift. There were cameras just around the corner facing away. Wordlessly, Obi-Wan motioned to Cody, pointing at the slowly-rotating devices above.

“That was the plan, Ahsoka,” he continued into the comm. “He needs to be the distraction so that we can continue the mission.”

There was a moment’s pause and Obi-Wan half-glared down at the communicator, irritation spiking. This was _not_ the time to be arguing.

When Ahsoka finally responded, it was as though he could hear her sigh of disappointment.

_“I understand, Master. We’ll hold position. Ahsoka out.”_

Satisfied, Obi-Wan lowered his arm back to his side, pulling his lightsaber from his belt. In one fluid motion, he ignited its blue blade.

The upper detention level was close by, but there was no telling how much more time they had to spare. Seeing that Cody and Rex had disabled the cameras, he started forwards again, sprinting down the left-hand hallway.

As they approached yet another fork in the hallways, Obi-Wan nodded at his men, signalling for them to continue their mad dash to the detention area. Behind him, he could hear the sound of blaster fire as the clones fired at anything that looked remotely like a defense mechanism.

He knew that it would give away their position, _kriff_ , anything they did now would, but once they got to Piell, they could call for reinforcements from Ahsoka’s team. 

It was a risk, he _knew_ that, but it had to work. At this point, there was little choice.

Gradually, the walls darkened from the light silver plated metal into a darker, much heavier alloy. The air itself seemed to drop in temperature, sending waves of chills down his spine. He could feel the death in the air, the echoing screams of fallen Jedi calling out to him in the Force.

They rounded a corner and were greeted by four battle droids who were shot down before they could even fire a single round. Behind them lay a semi-darkened corridor with a circular chamber behind it.

Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes.

A row of Separatist-made cells lined both sides of the hallway, their ominous, darkened doorways dotted with slowly blinking lights.

Two Commando Droids rushed towards them, appearing from the farthest cell, long rifles levelled at them. In a blur of blue light Obi-Wan pulled the Force around him, launching himself forwards and slicing the nearest droid in half.

A well-aimed shot from behind him took out the other droid’s right leg and it staggered to the side before leaping into the air, aiming a kick at Obi-Wan’s head. Dodging the clawed foot, Obi-Wan rolled, coming up on one knee as his lightsaber cleaved through its torso.

_Only two droids._

_This is a trap, an obvious one if I’ve ever seen one. But it’s not like we have a choice. It’s now or when the place is swimming in droids._

Master Piell’s presence became more and more discernible in the Force with every step he took. The Jedi Master was in a considerable amount of pain, his signature exuding a deep, aching fatigue. It was the kind of exhaustion that one got when pushed too far, forced to endure pain and torment well past what their body could tolerate.

Sensing that filled him with urgency. Piell was alive, but he wouldn’t last much longer. That much was clear.

Soft whispering met his ears, making him freeze in his tracks. The Force seemed to shudder quietly, calling to him in warning.

_The trap has been sprung._

“General!” Boil’s voice rang out from somewhere behind him, yanking Obi-Wan back into the moment.

Obi-Wan spun around to see Boil pointing at what he’d best describe as a wall of electricity rapidly approaching them from where they just entered the detention center. At the sight of the crackling electricity, Obi-Wan frowned, realizing exactly what was happening.

Thinking fast, he reached deep into the Force, grasping the oncoming threat and pushing back. The electricity slowed—barely.

In an effort to distance himself from deadly arcs of energy, Boil tripped over the fallen droid, nearly crashing into the nearest cell. Throwing his out his hand onto a nearby panel, he managed to keep himself upright. The door slid open with a loud hissing sound.

“ _Go_!” Obi-Wan grunted, gritting his teeth together. The clones scrambled in front of him before he released his hold on the Force and followed them, already feeling threads of exhaustion working their way through his body from the exertion.

The electricity pursued them down the hall, past Piell’s cell and into the circular room. It wasn’t much of a surprise to Obi-Wan when he noted there there were no exits.

They were trapped.

Spinning around, Obi-Wan gathered the Force around him, pushing it outwards a second time. After a moment, the electricity slowed, but continued to inch forward even as Obi-Wan strained against it. Pain flared into existence in the back of his skull, and his hands trembled slightly.

The deadly arcs of electricity continued their approach, pinning him and the Clones to the wall.

He counted.

_Six feet … five… four…_

Flat to the wall, his hands pressed as close to the energy as he dared, Obi-Wan could feel his hair standing on end, an intense tingling searing across his skin.

A high-pitched whirring noise echoed through the room, and Obi-Wan faltered, letting the Force slip out of his grasp as an alarm sounded for the second time since the extraction mission began, this time much louder than the first. It felt as though his head was about to explode, waves of high-pitched sound tearing through his head like a wildfire.

His lightsaber jerked within his grasp and he automatically fumbled for its grip, only to watch as it joined his comlink, the clones’ blasters, and explosives against the metallic surface of the tall, domed ceiling.

It was magnetized. Of _course_ it was.

“Oh, not good,” he muttered. Wincing, he pulled his right hand away from his head and reached upwards with the Force to pull back at his weapon. He saw his lightsaber twitch slightly, but it—stubbornly—remained in place.

“Looks like we’ve got company,” Cody called. Obi-Wan pulled his eyes away from the ceiling to see four yellow commando droids racing towards them. As they crossed into the electrified zone, the bolts of electricity travelled down the droid’s limbs, snaking down into the floor.

“They have some sort of electrical shielding!” Rex exclaimed, surprise radiating through the Force.

_Kriff._

A rifle barrel jerked to the side, aimed for Rex’s head and Obi-Wan watched the mechanical finger begin to press on the trigger. With a growl, he reached out in the Force and grasped the end of the weapon, wrenching it skyward. The droid balked as the rifle clattered against one of Rex’s twin D-17s.

An identical droid advanced towards Obi-Wan, firing a preemptive shot right at his heart. Anticipating the airborne plasma, he rolled to the side, pushing Cody out of the way as another droid fired as well.

Obi-Wan frowned. Commando droids were deadly, outright lethal in most situations. So why were these droids playing friendly?

_They must want us alive._

Reaching up, Obi-Wan channeled his will into the circuitry of the droids in front of him, grunting from exertion as the droids began to hover off of the ground. A droid off to his right fired, grazing his arm with a shot just as he closed his fists, collapsing the circuitry near the top of their metallic spines. The droids shook violently as the electric wall did the rest of the job for him, frying the wiring completely; their metal bodies crashed to the floor, a mess of fried electrical components and useless parts.

Panting, Obi-Wan fell against the wall, feeling oddly light-headed. The rest of his company stared at him. 

For a moment, all was still. The sound of the ceiling magnet continued to pulse painfully in his ears. Obi-Wan grimaced, pressing a hand to his skull as he checked his surroundings for any chance of escape—there was none.

_That kriffing energy field..._

After a few long moments, Obi-Wan pulled himself upright and started to gather the Force back around himself, focusing on his pounding temples. 

In that moment, a group of Commando droids rounded the corner into the detention block, coming to a stop just outside the electrical barrier. Behind them, the circular forms of moving droidekas followed, flanking a rather hunchbacked Phindian male in a dark jacket and boots. 

With a hiss, the electricity field shut down, leaving a trail of smoke behind as it went. Several seconds later, the horrendous noise followed, plunging the room into a deep, uncomfortable silence.

The Phindian stopped and raised his hand, causing the procession to halt. About twenty blasters levelled themselves at them, ready to fire.

“Greetings, General Kenobi. I am Osi Sobeck, Warden of this Citadel.” The Phindian’s speech was rough, like talking around sandpaper. Had Anakin been here, Obi-Wan was sure that his former-apprentice would’ve made some kind of crude joke out of it.

Setting his jaw, Obi-Wan glared up at Sobeck, already speeding through a multitude of possible escape routes. So far, none were looking very optimistic.

Sobeck laughed, a horrible grating sound. “I know that look, _Jedi_. You all are so different and yet the same. Know that if you move even an inch, I will have my droids open fire on your men. You have no way out.”

As the Warden spoke, the droidekas shifted their aim towards the clones, reinforcing Sobeck’s words.

“You will surrender, just like your pathetic strike team down in the tunnels.”

What was he to do? Sure, he could make a run for it, taking a blaster from the nearest droid and firing into the crowd, but he was sure that Sobeck hadn’t been lying. To act now may ensure his own survival, but it would also mean certain death for his men.

And while he’d risk his own life in a heartbeat, he was not so willing to risk the latter. 

Frustration bubbling up within him, Obi-Wan raised his hands in defeat.

Beside him, Cody did the same. Several Commando droids approached them with handcuffs. Obi-Wan made note of how the cuffs meant for him were considerably larger, constructed of a silver metal with a glowing red light inside.

His heart sank. Of course the Citadel had them, it was a _Jedi_ prison, after all. As they clicked into place around his wrists, his connection to the Force vanished, brutally ripped away by the machinery contained within the cuffs.

Sighing aloud, he glanced up at Cody, who was staring at the droid incredulously. It was painfully obvious that the Clone Commander knew exactly what made that particular set of binders different from the ones used on himself.

“That’s right, _Commander_ ,” came Sobeck’s sneering tone, “your Jedi friend isn’t going to have access to his precious Force for a long time, thanks to you.”

“It’s alright, Cody,” Obi-Wan said in an undertone, “this is not your fault.”

Nodding a farewell to his men, he let himself be shoved forwards down the hallway by the droids.

* * *

Everything was quiet. Ahsoka would have been surprised, but she figured it would be better to appreciate the silence. It meant that no one had been discovered yet—which meant that the mission was going well so far…hopefully.

She desperately wanted to follow Obi-Wan deeper into the Citadel, but she couldn’t exactly abandon Fives and Echo here, and someone needed to stay in the tunnel to keep watch. It made sense, but…

Ahsoka let out a quiet sigh, leaning back against the metal wall. Next to her, the two clones were quiet but aware, looking down both sides of the entry point for signs of movement.

Their post was precarious at best, being the three of them crammed in the entrance of the ventilation shaft which Obi-Wan had entered through, peering through a three-by-three grate at the cylindrical hole in the metallic wall of the prison fortress.

Personally, Ahsoka didn’t mind the post, but she could feel her two companions’ resentment growing by the minute. It was uncomfortable, to be sure, but they were the only available backup for Obi-Wan’s team should anything go wrong.

“Looks clear to me, Commander,” Fives said softly, turning back around to face her. His voice betrayed none of the boredom that Ahsoka felt emanating from his presence, and she felt a stab of jealousy.

Ahsoka nodded at him, forcing a smile onto her face.

It was just…quiet.

 _Too_ quiet.

Closing her eyes, she reached out into the Force, sending her consciousness up the bond she shared with Obi-Wan. She was expecting it to be a faint signal, cut off by the distance and focus of the mission… but what she didn’t count on was the darkness there.

Screams of pain greeted her, cries telling of death and destruction, voices that she hadn’t heard since Mortis. Terror building inside of her, she broke off the connection with a start, eyes flying open to see Echo’s worried gaze.

She waved him away. It was nothing, just the tricks of the Citadel, she told herself. Jedi had died here, _many_ Jedi. The place was kriffing haunted.

It was nothing…

Heart in her throat, she refocused on the mission. 

Just at that moment, an alarm cut through the air, emanating from the open hole in the side of the prison fortress. Ahsoka jumped to her feet in surprise, heart thundering in her chest.

“What was _that_?” Echo asked, eyes wide, peering through the open entrypoint. Fives tapped him on the shoulder and made a point of putting on his helmet. Nodding, Echo mirrored the movement. Both had to duck down significantly to keep from banging their helmets on the low ceiling.

“I’m not sure,” Ahsoka said, looking around as well. There was no sign that they’d been spotted; there wasn’t a droid in sight. There was always the chance that Master Plo or Obi-Wan were the cause, not to mention the patrols spread across the length of the tunnel from the ship to the Citadel itself. _All_ of them were at risk.

Ahsoka pulled her commlink up to her mouth and pressed the button to connect her to Master Plo’s channel.

_“Ahsoka?”_

She let out a quiet sigh of relief.

“Master Plo,” she replied. “The alarm just went off here. What happened? Were you discovered?”

 _“No, little ‘Soka,”_ came Plo’s reply, worry is evident in his voice. _“They haven’t spotted us by the landing pad.”_

Exhaling, Ahsoka leaned back against the wall. If Plo hadn’t been discovered, then it was even more likely that Obi-Wan was. She sighed heavily, fully aware of Echo and Fives listening in over her shoulder.

Just then, Obi-Wan’s channel activated, overriding the conversation.

 _“There are battle droids below us,”_ came her Grandmaster’s soft exclamation. “ _They appear to be heading your way. Stay sharp.”_

Ahsoka exchanged a glance with Fives, who was closest to her. There were indeed footsteps approaching, _metallic_ footsteps at that. Echo moved as far back into the shaft as he could, his head tilted at an odd angle in order to avoid hitting his helmet on the wall.

As quietly as she could, Ahsoka withdrew from her perch above the vent, nearly falling as she moved towards Echo. He reached out and gripped her arm as she lost her balance.

They were clear of being spotted…at least for the moment. The downside was that she could no longer see. Fives, however, could.

“They’ve found the entrance.” He stated flatly.

Struggling not do show her dismay, the sound of blaster fire reached her ears. Screams of dying clones echoed through the hole in the wall, magnified by all the metal and stone.

 _“Ahsoka,”_ Master Plo’s voice filled the air and Ahsoka hastily clapped a hand over the commlink’s speakers to muffle the sound.

“Yes, Master,” she whispered back.

 _“We’re overrun, I’m falling back to the pipeli—”_ The Kel Dor’s voice cut out, fizzling as though his commlink had suffered some sort of impact.

“Master Plo?” Ahsoka hissed, “Master?”

Her commlink bleeped and Obi-Wan’s channel opened, echoes of blaster fire clearly audible in the silence surrounding her.

Desperate for news, Ahsoka’s words came out in a rush.

“Master, they’re all around us.”

Obi-Wan’s voice was distorted. _“Stay put, Ahsoka, do not engage.”_

Engage the enemy? No, that’s not what she had in mind. She wanted to help, sprint up the nearest corridor and up all the levels until she could help her Grandmaster. She didn’t want to be alone, leading two clones while both Masters were in battle.

“But Master Plo is overrun; the droids are in the tunnels!” It was all she could do to keep the whine out of her voice.

 _Control yourself, Ahsoka,_ she chided herself, _you can do better._

There was a pause and all she could hear was the muted blaster fire, barely audible over the thundering roar of footfalls below. She hardly dared to breathe until the static-filled reply came through.

_“That was the plan, Ahsoka. He needs to be the distraction so that we can continue the mission.”_

The ‘you know this’ was heavily implied and it was all she could do to stop herself from becoming overly-defensive. She took a long breath through her nose and sighed.

_Alright._

_Calm yourself._

“I understand, Master. We’ll hold position. Ahsoka out.”

“So we just wait?” Fives asked, having listened to the entire conversation. “What if it was the extraction team that was discovered?”

Ahsoka sighed. “It didn’t seem like it was,” she replied. “They’re alright, I’m sure of it.”

She _had_ to be sure of it. She’d already lost her Master; she couldn’t possibly lose anyone else now, not like this…

 _Focus_.

“We’ll just have to wait here for now,” Ahsoka continued. “Master Plo or Kenobi will contact us once we need to move.”

Fives and Echo nodded. In the Force, however, neither of them seemed convinced.

She really, _really_ hoped that Obi-Wan was alright.

The three of them settled back into silence. Ahsoka stared up at the ceiling, trying to not think about everything that could be happening right now. The tunnel had fallen eerily silent, save for the occasional blaster shot. She didn’t like waiting, standing off to the side while something important was happening, but she had little choice now.

She didn’t know how much time passed before the Force shuddered. Ahsoka frowned and pulled herself upright.

“Sir?” Echo asked, tilting his head slightly.

The Force let out a flare of warning before receding back into silence. Once more, Ahsoka attempted to sense her Grandmaster, but found the ink blackness of the Dark Side blocking her. There was no way through it, regardless of how much she tried.

Exhaling, she extended herself even further and tried to contact Master Plo, only to find the same darkness blocking her.

_Kriff._

Something had just happened, she was sure of it, but she didn’t know who, what, or how. For one thing, the stream of Separatist droids had stopped, but that could mean _anything._ It was frustrating, to say the least. She and her team were essentially blind.

“Kriff,” she murmured aloud.

Her commlink beeped. Ahsoka looked down at it to see Obi-Wan’s frequency light up.

She hesitated for a brief moment before accepting the call.

“Master?” she asked slowly.

A cold laugh echoed out of her commlink, freezing her blood into ice.

_That’s not Obi-Wan._

_“Listen to me, Jedi. I now have two Jedi Masters in my possession, thanks to your little rescue attempt.”_ The voice was unfamiliar, taunting and cutting.

 _“I must commend you on your attempt, but in the end, it was easy to predict your every move. A Jedi as well-known as Kenobi means a lot to you, I’m sure,”_ the voice continued, almost teasingly.

_“So what are you going to do now, Jedi?”_

A laugh crackled out of her commlink before it fell silent, bursting into static. The commlink cycled uselessly between its programmed frequencies before powering down.

With trembling hands, Ahsoka tried to comm Master Plo, but it didn’t connect.

“They jammed us,” she said, looking up at Fives and Echo, whose expressions were hidden behind their helmets. “It looks like we’re on our own.”

“What do you want to do, Commander?” Fives asked.

Sighing, Ahsoka’s eyes followed the path up the vent shaft, tracing the route which Obi-Wan had taken when he’d left. What was there left to do? Her Grandmaster was captured, Master Plo still unaccounted for, but most likely still engaged with the enemy in the tunnels, and she was hiding in a karking ventilation shaft watching the world go to hell around her. 

It was more obvious now that she had to do _something_.

“I—”

Before she could say anything else, the sound of clashing metal met her ears and she craned her neck to look down. A row of droidekas—maybe ten or twelve of them—circled around the entry point, their blasters trained on the caves. Behind them came a row of Super Battle droids, facing out. Shouting emanated from deeper within the cave, followed by more muted blaster fire. After another moment of chaos, both the voices and the sounds of combat faded into nothingness.

Master Plo had indicated that he was planning to send reinforcements to the Citadel entrance. It now seemed abundantly clear that it was not going to happen.

She looked up at Fives and Echo and nodded at them, gesturing at the shaft ahead.

“We’re going in,” she said softly, “there’s nothing more we can do here. It seems the plans have changed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We hope you enjoyed the chapter! The next update will be in approximately 3 weeks -on a Saturday too *crosses fingers*
> 
> Once again, there is some dialogue taken from the Clone Wars TV series which we do not own. We also claim no rights to any characters taken from the Star Wars universe.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahsoka grapples with difficult choices while Obi-Wan faces the hospitality of the Citadel's warden: Osi Sobeck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Star Wars Day! Apologies again for the delay; we've both been swamped with exams and this chapter was quite the monster to plan and to write.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> ~ Pandora151 and LazarusII
> 
> Warning: DEFINITELY has graphic scenes and possible trigger points. Read at your own discretion.

The cell was cold, dark, and smelled of death. Here, it seemed that the Separatists had chosen—for better or worse—to keep their prisoners in perpetual darkness. All that Obi-Wan knew was that when he’d first been shoved head-first through the thick blast door, the first thing that had greeted him was a wall of thick, cool air not unlike that of a long-forgotten cave.

Alone in a cell, deep within the Citadel’s detention block, Obi-Wan stared down at his cuffed wrists. Being cut off from the Force was unpleasant; he was so accustomed to having it thrumming somewhere in the back of his mind that the gathering emptiness from the connection being ripped away from him felt not unlike losing a limb.

Without the Force, he felt completely unbalanced and off-kilter. Needless to say, the search for Master Piell had just become more difficult.

“How inconvenient,” he muttered to himself before turning away from the cell door. Staring at it wouldn’t make it open, as much as he wished otherwise.

Frustration welled up from somewhere deep inside of him. Exhaling, Obi-Wan knelt onto the ground and closed his eyes, allowing his mind to fall quiet. Even without the Force, he could meditate and center himself before figuring out what to do next.

Obi-Wan focused on his breathing, letting each breath flow into him easily. There had to be a way of escaping. He just needed to calm his mind and focus.

_There is a way out of this, there has to be…but how?_

This was hardly the first time he’d been cut off from the Force, but the sensation still felt foreign and uncomfortable to him. He felt the exhaustion pulling at his limbs, a strange sort of ache pressing into him almost… _stubbornly_.

But that didn’t matter.

What mattered was the mission. He didn’t know how Plo and Ahsoka were faring, but he had to assume that they would continue to guard the tunnel and the ship, even if he was captured and separated from his men.

With that, Obi-Wan let himself fall into a light meditative state, embracing the sense of security brought by retreating within his own mind.

In a way, the whole situation reminded him of Geonosis, but this time there was no possibility of Anakin coming for yet another hasty and near-impossible attempt at rescue. This time, he had to find his own way out.

Mental images of his brash, reckless, former-Padawan popped into his head. A humorless chuckle threatened to burst from somewhere within him. In all of his years training Anakin Skywalker, it was that brash, quick-to-action nature that he’d come to miss once the man had been Knighted.

While he’d been a pain to work with, it had been their opposing natures which had brought them closer to one another.

Obi-Wan let out a final exhale, letting his eyes flick open once again.

The Force had always been a constant for him, a balance point from which he could seek comfort. But now, his mind felt barren and stripped of those extra protective walls. Now, his focus had nothing to put it into check.

Now, the grief was setting in.

Obi-Wan got to his feet slowly, each movement jarring his stiff muscles. His back ached from the long trip in the shaft and his arms felt as though they’d been turned to lead. Thinking back to his antics before his capture, it came to no surprise that his body was complaining.

It had been a while since he’d pushed himself that far, but he had the strange feeling that it wouldn’t be the last time.

While he’d been able to make out the dimensions of the small room, most of the wall’s details were lost in the gloom.

What he _hadn’t_ missed, however, was the fact that there were no mistakes in the cell’s construction. There was only one way in and out: the blast door, where undoubtedly, a small army of super battle droids stood guarding the other side.

Looking away from the door, Obi-Wan instead fixed his gaze on the far corner of the cell—the corner that he’d been actively avoiding since his arrival.

There was a strange-looking mass in the back corner, nearly indecipherable in the darkened room.

Obi-Wan felt sick just looking at it. He had a feeling he knew what it was, but he desperately hoped that he was wrong.

Regardless, it was about time that he found out the truth.

Time seemed to slow down as Obi-Wan made his way to the back of the cell, eyes fixed on the shadowed figure.

Even in the dark gloom of the cell, Obi-Wan could make out medium-length hair falling about motionless shoulders. A streak of lighter hair caught his attention, its brighter color sticking out of the darkness like a beacon. It was gold. Beyond that, he saw a handsome face, still and pale in death.

“Oh, no,” he murmured, dismay creeping up into his throat.

Even after many years, Obi-Wan hadn’t forgotten the face of Ferus Olin. Olin and Anakin had once been rivals, bitter rivals, both hell-bent on becoming his Padawan. In the end, however, Obi-Wan had made his choice and Olin had gone on to become Siri Tachi’s apprentice.

After the disastrous mission to Korriban, however, Olin had parted ways with the Jedi and chose his own path. Anakin had once voiced his curiosity about what had happened to the ex-Padawan, but neither of them had heard anything since in years.

Now, it seemed that Olin had met his end, brutally, in secret, and all alone.

Obi-Wan felt his heart sink as he imagined what the man’s last days had been like.

Shirtless, with a light travelling-cloak carelessly tossed over him, the former-Padawan’s body was mutilated and bloody, littered with burns and cuts and broken bones, some of them looking as though they had healed and been reopened repeatedly. A part of Obi-Wan wondered exactly how long the man had lasted here, how long he must have waited and waited for rescue, for some semblance of hope…

With a quiet sigh, Obi-Wan knelt down and carefully rolled the body onto its back. Olin’s face was almost completely covered in burns, cuts, and bruises, many of which were still open and bleeding. Obi-Wan reached a hand to the pulse point on the neck and waited, knowing what the answer would be.

A few moments passed.

Obi-Wan bowed his head and murmured, “May the Force keep you safe in its embrace, Ferus Olin.”

So many had already died because of this war. _Force_ , his own Padawan had died not too long ago, and now everything was…He shook his head. There would be time to grieve later. For now, he needed to find a way out of this cell.

Silently, Obi-Wan returned to his old post near the door, seating himself so that he faced the entrance. There, he fell back into an uneasy meditation.

After all, escape was the first step to get back on track for this mission.

And the mission was the priority.

* * *

The shaft was cold and dark, filled with an ominous humming from the station’s power grid. Every so often, shafts of light would spill upwards from the lit corridor below, piercing into the gloomy semi-darkness around the crossed bars of a vent.

Ahsoka had the old archive data memorized, but she still pulled up the holomap of the Citadel sporadically, eyeing the complex maze of corridors outlining the great tower’s interior. According to the data, she, Echo, and Fives were rapidly approaching the detention block. They’d already gone up three floors from the entry point, traversing the precarious vertical shafts with caution, keenly aware of the very long drop that awaited even the most minor mistake.

Luckily for them, the ventilation system hadn’t changed very much since the Jedi Council had first taken the data; it led them directly to the shaft right above the detention center.

Unfortunately for Ahsoka, however, that was when things began to go downhill.

The Force had been darkening for some time; years of pain, suffering, and death piled upon one another until the very air seemed thick with the whispers of the fallen. If not for the mission, if not for the knowledge that she had a purpose for being there, Ahsoka was sure that she would’ve already begun to lose herself in the endless trail of sickness around here.

It was no wonder that her bond with Obi-Wan had been blocked.

_Speaking of blocked…_

Climbing up the vertical shaft, Ahsoka had nearly ran headfirst into a wall before realizing that she had practically been running on auto-pilot. The last junction, the very _last_ path that she, Fives, and Echo needed to crawl through had been blocked by a thick, solid panel of metal the same density—she estimated—as a blast door.

The entire detention area had been cut off from the ventilation system. It was an entire level of the Citadel now blocked from them. Ahsoka juggled the idea of simply cutting through the vents with her sabers, but she opted to wait for a second opinion. Halting, she pressed herself against the bulk of metal, her feet perched on the lip of the adjacent shaft.

Below her, the two clones grumbled softly as they heaved themselves upwards, their armor more of a hindrance than ever. Ahsoka felt a stab of sympathy for her companions. They were both adults, much taller and broader than her, armored from head to toe, and yet they still had to move quietly through the cramped, metal tunnels.

“You two doing alright?” she quipped, crossing her arms as best she could.

Fives propped his elbows on the opposing ledge, wedging his heels into the support beam some five feet below. Next to him, Echo mirrored the action, opting to hold himself upright using the opposite wall instead.

“We’re doing pretty well.” Echo sounded slightly breathless beneath the mask, but his voice still remained stable. “What now? That’s the entry point we planned on taking.”

Ahsoka sniffed, shifting her weight in order to press her ear against the metal impasse. A faint keening sound made her recoil.

“Oh, kriff,” she sighed, “that’s not good.”

“What is it, Sir?” Fives leaned closer to her as though to listen for himself.

“They have amplifiers behind that door—loud ones, too,” she groaned. “Sounds like the Citadel’s alarm system is broadcasted in there—at a dangerous level. But that’s beside the point, I’m pretty sure we can still get through…” Her voice trailed off as she went through several scenarios in her head. When none of the mental images lined up, Ahsoka sighed and looked back at the clones, keeping her face carefully blank.

“Any ideas?”

“Permission to speak freely, Sir?” Fives asked, his voice low.

Ahsoka nodded. “Go ahead.”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m getting a very bad feeling about whatever is on the other side of that door. My gut is telling me to get the hell away from here, even though the General is somewhere down there.”

“It’s a trap,” Ahsoka added once the clone finished, nodding. Her gaze slid to Echo and the clone’s helmet drooped.

“With all due respect, Commander,” Echo began hesitantly, “I just don’t like it. It’s as you said, this is a trap. Yes, we can still cut our way in and get down to the detention level…I agree with Fives on this one. I don’t think that General Kenobi would want us down there.”

Ahsoka closed her eyes and stretched out into the Force once more. The darkness was strong, far too strong for her to sense anything.

All too aware of both pairs of eyes on her, Ahsoka let herself lean back as far as possible, tipping far enough back so that she could use the opposite wall for support. The vertical shaft seemed to span the entire height of the Citadel, so maybe—just maybe—it would reach the very top. Despite them being well above their entry, Ahsoka couldn’t see an upper exit anywhere.

“This shaft seems like it leads topside,” she said after a pause. “I vote that we get up there and find cover. Then we can talk things over. From what I can tell, there should be an entrance up there.”

Both clones seemed to brighten up at the prospect of getting out of a confined space, nodding and preparing to resume the climb. Just as she was about to turn her attention back upwards, Ahsoka’s eyes caught a faint flash of red light in the tunnel, small and barely visible around the corner of a perpendicular tunnel.

She froze as the light flashed again, this time its form resolving into the domed, three-eyed appearance of a Separatist probe droid.

“Fives,” she hissed to the furthest clone, “we’ve got a probe on us, three floors down.”

Faster than Ahsoka could think, Fives whipped around and fired his blaster. Three shots lit up the dim lighting below, the barrel of the DC-15 flaring an electric blue with each burst of deadly plasma. The probe toppled slowly, its largest eye shooting sparks from where the clone’s fire had burned through it.

As she and the rest of her small trio resumed their climb, a muted _crunch_ resounded up the shaft, indicating that the fallen droid had finally hit the bottom of the long and treacherous tunnel.

Following the appearance of the probe, the three of them fell into an uneasy silence. Ahsoka’s mind kept sliding back to her Grandmaster—despite her efforts to stay on task. With every passing floor, she longed for the security that his presence brought and for the sense of calm that filled the Force through their bond. In her heart, she felt pain resonate from her memories following Mortis. She’d been angry and hurt, two emotions that could’ve gotten her into so much trouble…but her Grandmaster had been patient and understanding.

Ahsoka had called him cold, heartless, and many more insults both verbally and in her mind.

And yet he had still been there for her, even when Anakin had left.

In a matter of days, they had gone from the formal Grandmaster-Padawan relationship to something more like family. Yes, they had been close before…closer than most lineages had the luxury of allowing, but now there was no intermediary between them, no Anakin Skywalker to mediate the occasional misunderstanding.

Ahsoka chanced a glance over her shoulder, gazing down the long shaft below. Somewhere down there, Obi-Wan was captured—or at least Sobeck had indicated as such. She gritted her teeth and faced forwards once more.

There was the mission. _Only the mission_.

The next thing Ahsoka knew, the loud screeching of metal was piercing her ears, descending from somewhere above. Eyes leaping skyward, she watched as the shaft’s defense system activated. Every few feet, metal doors snapped shut, sealing off the long, vertical space into small sections.

“We’ve got incoming!” she cried.

_The grooves! Of course! The metal grooves that we’ve been climbing on, that’s the defense grid._

“Follow my lead!”

With a loud _schhht_ the metal doors snapped shut right above her head, nearly closing around her lekku. Grunting, she twisted to the side, letting go of every handhold as she pulled her knees up to her chest.

_Please be fast enough, please…_

All sources of light winked out just as her shoulder collided with the lower trapdoor, the impact jarring her teeth. Groaning, she rolled over, and pressed a hand against the upper door, feeling for any means of exit—there wasn’t one.

A wave of pain filled the Force. The feeling was close by, localized. Ahsoka felt her heart sink.

It was one of the clones—it had to be.

“Echo?” she called, struggling to keep the anxiety out of her voice. “Can you hear me? Are you alright?”

No response. Of course, the doors were probably soundproof.

Slowly, Ahsoka extended herself, resting her feet on the far wall as she reached for her lightsaber. Carefully, so as to avoid accidentally impaling herself, she ignited her shoto blade. The light yellow-green glow filled the small compartment for a moment before Ahsoka rolled onto her elbows and stabbed the top half of the blade into the lower door.

_Force, please tell me that I didn’t just impale Echo._

Slowly, she carved a hole in the floor, using the Force to lift the cutout once she finished. With a rather loud _thud_ , she let the piece of red-hot metal fall near the opposite wall of her small—now even more constricted—compartment.

A wave of relief ran through Ahsoka as she saw movement below her.

“Commander.” Echo’s voice sounded normal and as strong as usual—if anything, he sounded a bit nervous but otherwise unscathed.

“Are you alright?” she repeated.

The masked figure nodded.

 _Fives._ Ahsoka took a deep breath through her nose.

_Please don’t be dead. Please, Fives._

“I think Fives is hurt; we need to hurry.”

Echo nodded and made himself as small as possible, anticipating what she was about to do.

Cutting the hole a little wider, Ahsoka managed to maneuver herself into the lower compartment with the clone. Her shoto deactivated with a sharp hiss.

Somewhere below them, Fives was hurt, his pain seeming to grow by the minute.

Ahsoka was about to continue cutting downwards when a thought crossed her mind. Tentatively, she pulled her lightsaber from her belt, flipping it around in her hand before offering it to the surprised clone.

At his hesitation, she jerked her chin upwards. “C’mon, we have to keep moving. I’ll get Fives. I need you to keep moving upwards. I don’t trust blasters in here, it’s not worth the risk.”

Echo gingerly took the lightsaber in his hand, analyzing it before nodding. “Yes…Sir.”

It took some maneuvering, but soon Echo was in the compartment above, Ahsoka’s lightsaber blazing in his hand as he carved through the thick metal above.

Ahsoka’s anxiety quickly doubled as she cut through three more levels with no sign of the lost clone. At one point, she stopped to check in with Echo, who was almost out of sight by then. His progress gave her reassurance.

_At least we’re getting somewhere._

Two more empty levels passed by and Ahsoka found herself hard-pressed to control her panic. How far had Fives fallen?

While cutting her way through the sixth level down, Ahsoka nearly got tangled with a hard, black cable that had clearly been wrenched from its place during her search effort.

_He fell. He must’ve._

In a frenzy, exhilarated by her discovery, Ahsoka cut her way two more layers of thick metal before finding the lost member of her team.

He was tangled in the grappling line and suspended roughly halfway between the two compartment doors. The line, which had been launched almost perfectly up the middle of the shaft, came loose as Ahsoka moved the circular cutout aside.

Fives dropped with a loud _thud_ and was still, save for a long, drawn-out groan of agony. Ahsoka held her shoto aloft, flooding the compartment with a soft, green-yellow glow.

“Fives,” Ahsoka gasped as she dropped down to his side. “Talk to me. Are you alright?”

_Karking hells, of course he isn’t ‘alright.’_

“I…think so,” came the response.

Ahsoka was no medic, but his response alone was probably a good sign.

“Okay. Do you have any broken bones?” She couldn’t see anything in the small, cramped space.

“Don’t think so,” came the breathless response, “just my…shoulder.”

Breathing out a sigh of relief, Ahsoka disengaged her shoto and clipped it to her belt. Far above her, the lonely light of her lightsaber flickered, dancing in and out of the white light of Echo’s helmet.

A few Force-propelled leaps led her to the lightsaber-weilding Clone. They had to keep moving; there was no telling what could be in store for them, or who might need their help next. Not to mention that the shaft was hardly the safest place to linger. With Fives' grapple destroyed and his right arm practically useless, there was only really one functional way to get him up at least six stories of vertical shaft.

“Echo, mind if I borrow your grapple?”

||

The trio practically exploded out into the night air, squeezing out through one of the uppermost vents of the monstrous prison. Ahsoka leapt to her feet, scanning the area for any signs of danger. Behind her, Echo pulled himself from the small opening, assisting Fives as the clone unceremoniously slid from the metal confins of the shaft and onto the Citadel’s hard rooftop.

Many stories above the Lola Sayu’s volcanic landscape, the wind whipped with a vicious fury, causing tears to spark in the corners of Ahsoka’s eyes. But that didn’t matter. If anything it was refreshing to be back out in the open. Above their heads, several large searchlights slowly rotated on a raised dais, scanning the ground—far below—for any sign of intruders.

Echo spied the small maintenance door first and roughly kicked it open. Blaster raised and ready, he quickly dispatched what seemed like a small security camera before giving the all-clear signal. Seeing that it was highly unlikely that the place would be bugged, Ahsoka agreed that the dais’ control room was their best option at catching a breather.

Ahsoka quickly found herself sliding into a sense of calm. They’d made it this far; now it was time to rethink their options. As she and Echo guided a dazed Fives into the small control room, her mind automatically defaulted to strategy.

She was about to voice the possibility of scaling the walls—and eventually making it back to the shuttle—when a great roar filled the air. Ahsoka immediately shoved aside the door and strode out from under the dais.

_No, no please!_

Feeling ill, she watched as a roiling mushroom-cloud of smoke rose from the far side of the prison, its point of origin located in the tunnels. Behind her, unable to see the view, Echo asked her what was wrong.

Ahsoka watched the smoke rise for a moment longer before striding back into the small control room, shutting the door behind her with a snap. Cracking a light-stick, she set the device down on the nearest control panel before kneeling next to Fives.

Both clones stared at her, neither of them with their helmets on. Two pairs of piercing-brown eyes stared into her blue ones.

“We need a change of plans.” Ahsoka pulled a small bandage from her belt pocket and began unravelling it slowly. She’d have to thank Kix for forcing her to take it later.

Still silence from the other two.

“The ship’s gone. We’re on our own now.”

* * *

Obi-Wan didn’t know exactly how long he walked around his cell, desperately searching for some sort of an exit. Even after his attempt at meditation and thorough repeated examination of the cell, the outlook was still quite grim. The cell had no entrance to the vents and there appeared to be no other potential weaknesses in the cell that he could have used as a possible exit.

Eventually, he came to the conclusion that it would be best to conserve energy. He was going to need it, should the opportunity of escape ever arose. Now, it was just a matter of waiting for the door to open once again.

Time continued to drag on and on, and without the Force to center himself, Obi-Wan quickly slipped into a daze-like state. It was as though he were navigating a fast-moving river. Mentally, he spun between the temptations of grief and the frustration that boiled within him. Time also seemed to stretch and flow at its own will; Obi-Wan found himself lost as to how long he’d been stuck within the darkness of the cell.

He hoped that Ahsoka would not deviate from the mission and try to rescue him, especially when so much was at stake. As much as he wished to be free, the mission came first.

 _Except if you’re Anakin Skywalker,_ his brain reminded him.

But Anakin Skywalker was dead.

For Obi-Wan, it had been a very long time since he’d battled his own mind so brutally. Force or no Force, he’d always had his core strong and balanced. He’d been ready for anything—or so he thought.

Clearly, the death of Anakin was going to haunt him just as Qui-Gon Jinn’s had.

It was also quite clear that his heart was still bleeding from both losses.

Over what he imagined to be hours, Obi-Wan rebuilt himself bit by bit, solidifying himself in the present. It was an arduous process, draining him mentally, but he resurfaced feeling much stronger than before. He _could_ get out of here on his own and find Master Piell, he was sure of it. It was just a matter of waiting for the right time.

||

The door clicked before it slid open, revealing the unpleasant face of Osi Sobeck. The Phindian was flanked by four super battle droids and two MagnaGuards, each wielding an electrostaff.

Sobeck chuckled lightly. “How do you enjoy being my guest so far, _Kenobi_?” he taunted, stepping forward towards Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan looked up at him, not even bothering to get to his feet. He shrugged a shoulder. “I must say, I have definitely seen better,” he replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Have you considered doing a little housekeeping? The smell is a bit off-putting here. Or would you suffocate on your own sense of superiority first?” He tried not to smirk at the growing displeasure on the Warden’s face.

Sobeck scowled and gestured towards the super battle droids. One of them stepped forward and tightly grabbed Obi-Wan’s left arm, lifting him roughly to his feet. A second droid grabbed his other arm.

For a split-second, Obi-Wan considered breaking the droids’ grip and running out of the cell. But even if he managed to pull out of this, he couldn’t face off against these droids without the Force or even his lightsaber.

More than that, he needed to know that his men were safe, that he could escape without causing them harm. For now, he would have to wait.

“How about a change of scenery?” Sobeck hissed, leaning uncomfortably close to Obi-Wan. “It seems like your Jedi friends need some more persuasion to come to your rescue.”

 _Thank the Force_.

Ahsoka and Master Plo must have decided to focus on the mission, even without him.

“Persuasion? Come now, warden, I didn’t take you to be a barbarian,” he needled, tilting his head slightly.

The droid in front of him drove a metal fist into his midsection, causing him to bend over, gasping. A MagnaGuard then lowered his staff and jabbed it into the small of his back.

Electricity arced through his body, making him grunt loudly in pain. His vision went fuzzy for a moment before returning to normal. His arms screamed in pain, and he staggered in place.

Sobeck let out a laugh. “Did you really think we would just let you sit here and just do nothing?” he asked tauntingly. “Your friends will come join us soon enough, once they see exactly how hopeless it is for you here, without your precious Force.”

At a gesture, the two super battle droids tightened their grip on Obi-Wan’s arms, and he turned around to walk out of the cell. The droids followed, dragging Obi-Wan with them. As much as he wanted to attempt escape, he knew he had to wait until the right moment.

He needed to know where Master Piell and his men were being held. Until he got that information, there was no other choice but to play along.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and slumped forwards slightly, allowing the droids to completely take his weight. His feet dragged across the metal behind him.

The _hiss_ of a door opening pulled Obi-Wan from his thoughts. He opened his eyes, lifting his gaze to see that he was being lead into yet another dark room, this time a lot larger in size. The floor, he noted, was the only source of light, as it glowed a threatening blood-red.

Behind them, the door hissed shut, cutting them off from the outside. A small droid, appearing hunchbacked and sporting an excessive array of instruments, rolled up to Obi-Wan’s shoulder and approached him with a wicked looking needle.

Obi-Wan twisted away out of instinct. The droids only tightened their grip on his arms.

The needle stung as it met his skin; he gasped at the intense pain that exploded across his right arm. It hurt, _kriff_ it hurt.

“That was X-C33, Jedi. Now, you will answer some of our questions.” The low drone of the torture droid seemed oddly disembodied to Obi-Wan’s ears.

Without warning, the two super battle droids gripping his arms practically threw him upwards into the restraining field. Pulled by his cuffs, Obi-Wan found himself hovering, frozen between the two electric generators, their eerie blue light washing over his vision.

“Where are the other Jedi that came with you?” The digital snarl was nearly drowned out by the cracking of a MagnaGuard’s staff, which slammed into his spine only seconds after the question.

He kept his lips sealed.

The droid nodded again to the MagnaGuard who jabbed Obi-Wan with the staff again, but higher, close to his neck.

“The X-C33 ensures that you will not pass out on us, Jedi. Now answer me: where are the other Jedi?”

Obi-Wan focused his gaze on the camera right above the doorway, his jaw set. He was a Jedi.

And Jedi didn’t betray one another.

Another shock came and his body contorted, twisting away from the source of pain. He let out a soft cry, but still said nothing.

The droid’s humming speech seemed distant and vague, like a whisper.

“Where are your fellow Jedi?”

Again, the shock came, sharp and painful.

X-C33, the fated drug that had spelled death for Bolla Ropal, could prevent a tortured victim from falling asleep for hours and even days. But could it prevent a mind sliding into memory?

The droid, having decided that electricity wasn’t the best solution, quickly changed tactics, injecting something into his left leg. It burned like fire, a feeling that spread up his body and into his torso.

Obi-Wan hissed as the feeling reached his neck and continued upwards. The sadistic droid continued to repeat the same question, over and over.

Seeing a way out, he dove into memories.

He relived Geonosis, Mortis, and Naboo, then drifted farther away and into the far past; he did not return until his body crashed against the metal flooring of the torture chamber.

X-C33 or not, the darkness found him there, curled upon the red-glowing floor panels.

Evidently, they hadn’t given a very high dosage.

||

Obi-Wan came round as he was dragged—none too gently—to his feet. When he was sure the droids weren’t looking directly at him, Obi-Wan glanced up surreptitiously, noting that he was being held and escorted—well, dragged, if he was being more precise—by two super battle droids.

The hallway appeared to be utterly devoid of any other droids or security cameras, and the droids that _were_ there appeared too focused on getting to their destination to pay much attention to their prisoner.

Well, Obi-Wan could definitely use _that_ to his advantage.

He pressed both feet firmly on the ground, surprising both his captors and himself. He didn’t know where the strength came from. It was as though every muscle in his body was on fire, but the fatigue had not drained all of his energy yet.

Without meaning to, a half-smile crept up his lips. He thought of Sobeck.

_Now is my chance._

“You forgot something important,” he murmured, keeping his voice quiet. “My men are safe. You have no leverage over me anymore.”

He lunged forward, using the momentum to throw the two droids forward. Their hold over him broke, their heavy, metal fingers tearing at his tunic. Obi-Wan spun around and ran down the hallway, turning at the corner. Hearing the heavy pounding of metallic footsteps behind him, he continued forward, ignoring the ache pounding away in his limbs. Energy or not, his legs still felt like putty.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been cut off from the Force, but it was beginning to feel like a gnawing, persistent ache in his mind, almost as though he’d lost a limb.

Obi-Wan glanced around the corridor, allowing himself a moment to pause and catch his breath. He had no idea where exactly he was in the detention block, despite the fact he had a general idea of where Master Piell was being held.

 _Think_.

Obi-Wan turned around carefully, examining his surroundings for some sort of a clue that would indicate which way he needed to go.

_Hurry!_

A few moments passed before he heard the heavy clanging of metallic footsteps from the corridor he’d just arrived from. Chest heaving, Obi-Wan broke off into a run again. The hallway forked at the end and he flew to the right hand side, nearly falling as his knees wobbled from the unwanted change of direction. He screeched to a halt.

Two MagnaGuards and four battle droids stood right in front of him, staring at directly at him.

 _“Hey, you’re not supposed to be here!”_ one of the droids exclaimed, and all six of them immediately drew their weapons.

One of the MagnaGuards leaped forwards, and Obi-Wan jerked back just in time to avoid a jab from its electrostaff. His noodly legs nearly gave way in the process.

“Oh, not good,” he mumbled, ducking down to dodge a blaster bolt from one of the battle droids.

Both MagnaGuards were advancing towards him, pushing him into the corner of the hallway, electrostaffs at the ready. Obi-Wan pressed himself into the corner, searching for some sort of opening between the two droids.

Before either of the MagnaGuards could strike, a whistling sound echoed through the corridor from behind the droids. Over one of the MagnaGuards’ shoulders, Obi-Wan saw R2-D2 racing down the hallway, a high-pitched whistle indicating his rapid approach. With a sharp beep, the astromech shot something into the air, arching towards Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan pulled both hands upwards and quickly grabbed at the lightsaber with his right hand. He quickly rotated the weapon into a reverse grip, turned his wrist sideways, and let the blue blade slice through the cuffs; he hissed softly as the lightsaber skimmed his left forearm near the elbow.

The cuffs fell to the ground, and immediately the Force came back to him like a rush of cool, refreshing water. Immediately, he splayed his left hand forward, pushing all the droids back. Their metal bodies hit the floor loudly, several of them letting out electronic shrieks of surprise.

Strength flowed back into his limbs as he flew forwards, the Force replenishing his exhausted body.

One by one, he cut through the battle droids with the lightsaber, leaving him alone with the two MagnaGuards. Breathing deeply, he pulled both droids upwards with the Force and crushed them, letting them clatter to the ground.

Obi-Wan let out a quiet sigh and leaned back against a wall, looking down at the lightsaber he held in his hands.

He nearly dropped it in surprise.

_How is it here? How?_

Anakin Skywalker’s lightsaber, scrubbed clean of char and grime, sat in the palm of his hand, its metallic hilt shining in the light of the corridor.

At the sound of a quiet, mournful _beep_ from Anakin’s astromech, Obi-Wan pulled his eyes away from the lightsaber to the droid. “You lost him, too,” Obi-Wan realized. “I am so sorry.”

R2-D2 beeped and whistled a few more times. Although Obi-Wan didn’t completely understand what the astromech was telling him, Obi-Wan smiled, pulling himself back upright.

“We need to find Master Piell and then get back to the ship,” Obi-Wan said.

A series of more indignant beeps, then a hologram flickered into existence. Obi-Wan watched as the shuttle that he and the extraction team had arrived in exploded, and his heart sank into his stomach.

 _There’s no way out_.

“Well, that complicates things,” he said. “For now, we’ll have to keep going. I know that communications have been down and we need to reach the Temple, but right now we need to get to Master Piell before it’s too late.”

Obi-Wan clipped the lightsaber to his belt, staring down at it for another moment before he reached out into the Force for Master Piell’s presence. It was faint, but there, resounding from the way which he’d just come.

“I can sense Master Piell,” Obi-Wan continued, looking down at the droid. “You should go back to Master Plo or look for Ahsoka.”

The droid let out a series of shrill beeps, almost indignantly. Obi-Wan frowned and tilted his head, unable to understand anything the droid was trying to tell him.

“Would you rather stay with me?” he asked, frowning slightly.

Immediately, the astromech beeped pleasantly and rolled closer to him, bumping into his legs.

Obi-Wan felt a sort of warmth gathering in his chest. “Well, we’d better hurry, then,” he replied, smiling slightly. “There’s little time to waste.”

Artoo followed him back down the corridor, beeping quietly as they moved through the detention block.

* * *

Having attended to Fives and his wrenched shoulder, Ahsoka found herself restless and impatient. She was desperate for someone to make a coherent decision. _Anyone_. But she was the ranking officer, the one in charge.

Therefore their plan of action was on her; it was her call.

They were stuck on top of a metal prison, separated from the main groups and without a way of escape. This made their situation damn near impossible, not to mention Fives' injury. And neither Echo nor Ahsoka were about to leave him behind.

A sense of trepidation had fallen over the trio as they thought in silence. The slow creak of the rotating searchlights above was the only sound besides the wind rattling the plexiglass windows set high inside the small metal cube. Echo shifted his weight, his back to the control panel. Ahsoka took the opportunity to sink down into a seated position, her back to the door. Fives faced them, his face beaded with sweat, his right arm in a makeshift sling across his chest.

Ahsoka frowned at Echo. “So you feel that we should go for the control room after all?”

The clone set his helmet down onto the floor next to where he sat leaned against the door. “Commander, that’s exactly what I was thinking.”

For the last few minutes, Ahsoka had been rattling off potential plans of action, opening the floor for discussion. She knew that it wasn’t standard for a person of her rank to rely on soldiers for strategy, but her views were also somewhat different. She, Echo, and Fives were in this together.

“As far as I can see it, the option for rescuing General Kenobi might take us into a trap. It’s what the warden wants.” Fives mused for a moment. “Granted, this entire place is basically one giant trap…”

Echo snorted. “You got that right, Fives.”

Leaning in on her elbows, Ahsoka thought for a moment before pulling up the holo of the archive data. She pointed to the very top of the wedge-shaped tower, singling out a small shelf protruding from the very highest peak. A small red dot appeared where her finger met the holographic data.

That was their location.

Tracing down a few floors, she zoomed in around the upper levels, coming to rest on a small set of windows offset from the rest of the tower.

“The old data indicates that there’s some kind of command center here. If we can get there, chances are we can get a location on their jamming system. Getting comms back would be a huge advantage for us.”

Both clones nodded in agreement.

Ahsoka sighed and let her hands fall into her lap before leaning her head back to rest against the metal. Tentatively, she relaxed her grip on the mental shields she’d held up ever since their arrival. Maybe, just _maybe_ , she could sense something…

Almost immediately, a soft whispering assaulted her ears. She shook her head, much to the puzzlement of the clones.

_It’s so much noise. I can’t sense anything._

“If you’ll excuse me for a moment.” Rising, she exited the dais, her hands resting on the lightsabers at her belt.

Of all things, there was something that had been bothering her for a while. The Force was acting strange. Yes, the Citadel was dark and had been the killing-ground for many Jedi, but that was no reason for her to be completely separated from her Grandmaster in their bond.

While she had a moment’s rest, she was determined to look into the issue.

It came as to no surprise that the roof was still free of droids, but Ahsoka still received a shock when she saw the lack of air traffic. Amazingly enough, all the droid STAPs that she could see were circling the lower hangars or hovering in groups over the tunnels.

Once Ahsoka determined that it was safe, she turned her focus inwards.

Ominous whispers seemed to fill the air, filling the Force with their incoherent words. An eerie shriek met her ears, before she’d even made it two paces from the door, so loudly that she spun around just to make sure it wasn’t real.

Ahsoka centered herself and began to pace a circle around the dais, her body shadowed by the large lights above her. Anyone or anything looking would only see the washed-out blaze of industrial light and nothing more; the thought gave her comfort.

 _Who are you?_ She asked. The whispering increased in volume briefly before returning to its normal hum.

Mortis, this had all started there. Ahsoka folded her arms tightly about herself. That cold, dark planet had been the starting point for a lot of things…

_I wish you were here, Master._

The same shriek from before drowned out her thoughts. Ahsoka stopped in her tracks.

_Wait a moment._

She thought back to earlier that day and frowned.

That was odd, the voice sounded the same. It was the same voice from only minutes ago, but hadn’t she heard a very similar scream even before then?

In the ventilation shaft, long before the vertical climb. Hadn’t it been right before the alarm sounded?

The voices, they weren’t a warning, at least not a momentary warning.

 _Do you have anything to do with Mortis?_ Ahsoka pushed the question into the Force, hopefully, to where to the voices could hear it.

No change.

_Why are you here?_

No change.

 _Are you dead?_ It was a dumb question, but legitimate.

Still nothing.

Ahsoka nearly threw up her hands in frustration.

_Are you the Sith?_

There was a moment of pause and Ahsoka froze, mid-step. ‘Are you the Sith?’ Were the voices really thinking of answering?

 _‘Yes…”_ Came a hiss, _‘and no.”_

Frowning, Ahsoka tapped her chin with her finger.

 _What do you mean?_ She asked back.

The hissing stopped, only for a ghostly voice to respond.

_‘Sith… beware… Jedi… beware.’_

Ahsoka was about to burst with unanswered questions when something caught her eye near the edge of the roof. Almost automatically, she made towards it, arms at her sides and eyes wide. To any outsider, she might have been hypnotized.

There was a spot growing in the very air in front of her, a small, dark hole that was opening. Ahsoka’s eyelids closed half-way as she drifted forward, a hand slowly coming up. Her mind screamed for her to stop and that it could be dangerous—

_The world shook as explosions rocked the deck of the Twilight. Frantic, mechanical beeping tore through Ahsoka’s ears as it painfully reverabrated within the cockpit. The outside of the ship was burning, brilliant bursts of orange and yellow sparks flying across the thick, shatterproof viewport._

_A dark figure stood in the center, his metal hand curled into a claw, its usual protective glove torn and hanging off in shredded chunks. Even as Ahsoka sat paralyzed in the copilot’s seat, Anakin Skywalker unfroze._

_The tall, dark-haired man tore at the pilot’s seat with his human hand, somehow tearing away sections of its cushioning. The metal fingers dug into the open maintenance panel above the front controls, burying themselves deep into layers of exposed circuitry. With a display of terrible power, the crazed man wrenched his arm downwards, yanking wads of the multicolored cables from their places._

_Paneling flashed, sirens blared, and the ship plummeted from the heavens._

_Ahsoka wanted to do nothing but scream and cry as she watched her Master disembowel the cockpit, his yellow eyes flashing. She could not move, nor could she make a single sound._

_All she could do was watch._

_Just as the ship dropped below the cloudline, Anakin changed tactics. The Force swelled and the door buckled behind Ahsoka, creaking and groaning as though a great many weights had been dropped on top of it. With the sound of a small explosion, the door gave way, bending forwards as if bowing before tearing away from its frame. A shower of glass rained down on the cockpit as the former-door, now wad of bent metal, was sent hurtling through the front viewsport._

_Ahsoka’s mouth was wide open as she screamed, her arms—the only thing that she could move—raised to protect her face._

_The wind whipped viciously in retort, sending Anakin tumbling back out of the cockpit and into the hall—out of sight._

_Alone, Ahsoka watched the Twilight break the treeline._

_Then the branches._

_Then, the ground was rushing up to meet her._

_‘Sith… beware… Jedi… beware.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! We're hoping to post the next chapter in the next 3-4 weeks.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Citadel continues to be a treacherous place. Stuff gets blown up, and plans change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since our last update, but here it is! (the monster chapter). To explain things briefly, we both took some time off from writing. Now we're back and we plan to get back into a regular update schedule for this fic. 
> 
> \- We do take some dialogue from the episode.  
> \- For those of you who do not know what a ‘klick’ is (we certainly didn’t). _“Klick is a common military term meaning kilometer when referring to distance.”_ ~ Urban Dictionary
> 
> ~ LazarusII

The hiss of the closet door seemed too loud as its metallic paneling slid shut, sealing the white-clad figure within its darkened interior. Ahsoka paused, a hand resting against the hardened surface, doubt crossing her mind. There was so much that could go wrong, too much for her liking, but it wasn’t like she had any other choice. 

Behind her, Echo stuck his head out of the ceiling, awaiting her return to the claustrophobic tube above. 

There was no telling just how long she and her two clone companions had been traversing the interior of Sobeck’s Citadel, but she could feel the apprehension down to her very bones. She wanted the whole thing to be over so that she could finally go home. 

A sense of fatigue had begun to creep into her limbs even as they’d grappelled their way down from the rooftop—that same feeling weighed her down now more than ever, slowing her thoughts, fed by the memories of her most recent vision…or nightmare. It was too difficult to tell one from the other anymore. 

Shaking her head slightly, Ahsoka launched herself upwards, putting the grate back into place. 

It was time to act. 

Echo’s nervous expression greeted her, his helmet tucked beneath his elbow. Butterflies were flitting around in Ahsoka’s stomach; there was just so much at stake. With their next move, communications could possibly be restored, something that had proved to be a major slowdown in the mission. 

The command block was in the adjacent hall, an easy trip from Fives’ position. Feeling apprehensive, Ahsoka ran her thumb over the shoto blade strapped to her belt. Below her stood three MagnaGuards, all armed, on standby. Beside them stood a hunchbacked Phindian talking to someone very familiar indeed. 

Ahsoka’s stomach dropped. 

The hologram of Count Dooku was nearly five feet tall, towering over everyone, even the MagnaGuards, as it shimmered above a central holotable. Around it sprawled the expanse of the command center: a giant cube filled with preoccupied droids and various stations running seamlessly. 

_“... and of Kenobi?”_ the slightly-distorted voice asked, _“you have him detained?”_

“Yes, my lord,” Sobeck replied. His slimy voice gave Ahoska the shivers. “Kenobi is in custody and we are closing in on the other Jedi as we speak.” 

_“If Skywalker were here, he would have already made his move._ ” The Count sounded oddly smug. Ahsoka felt her heart sink even further. 

_We should wait, I want to hear the rest of this… Sobeck is in the perfect place for us to strike though._

Echo tapped Ahsoka’s ankle, and she craned her neck to look back at him. The Clone jabbed his finger backwards, his blaster coming up to his chest. 

_“Something’s coming,”_ he whispered. 

Ahsoka focused, forcing herself to tune out the two voices coming from right beneath her. For a moment, she couldn’t pick up anything, but then the Force cried out a warning. A circular optical sensor peered around the corner back where the vent shaft split. The telltale hum of a live data stream could be heard, a stoft undertone to the babble of noise from below. 

_We have to get out of here, now, before the defenses go off._

Ahsoka felt her heart begin to race. She made a signal to Echo, who nodded, pulling his helmet over his face. The clone drew a charge from his belt and passed it to her. 

A final scan of the room told Ahsoka that there were a total of eleven droids in the room: the three MagnaGuards directly below her, two super battle droids stationed by the door, and a crew of battle droids manning various stations. Even with Anakin, those odds weren’t the greatest—and they usually also had a whole squad of 501st soldiers to count on having their backs…

Now, they were alone: no backup, and possibly no way out.

The grate flew downwards, smashing into the holotable and sending sparks flying everywhere, cutting Dooku off mid-sentence. The MagnaGuards recoiled, one of them missing an arm, while Sobeck cried out, his arms shielding his face. The hologram of Dooku crackled and sputtered ominously as the projector’s circuitry fried itself, causing the hologram to blink out of existence. 

With a desperate war cry, Ahsoka flipped down from the ceiling, cutting through the nearest MagnaGuard and rolling before gutting the other. The third attempted to attack her, but it was hampered by its apparent lack of an arm. Lashing out, Ahsoka kicked its knees out before brutally stabbing it with her shoto. 

In the brief few seconds of action, the super battle droids had both opened fire, buying the others time to draw their blasters. A storm of blaster bolts filled the air, the vast majority of which were aimed at Ahsoka’s body. 

Above her, Echo fired at the droids around the perimeter, disabling as many as he could before they could arm themselves. 

Panting from the effort of deflecting them all, Ahsoka dove behind the nearest station, cutting through the droid who’d previously been manning it. 

Ahsoka had no time to recover before Sobeck was onto her, a MagnaGuard’s staff clutched in his hands. With a vicious blow, the Phindian warden brought his boot down on her forearm. Ahsoka cried out and squirmed, trying to get free. Bringing her feet up, she kicked Sobeck as hard as she could, her free arm swinging her lightsaber in a deadly arc aimed for his knee. 

The warden blocked the swipe with the electrostaff but backed off all the same—much to Ahsoka’s relief. Muscles protesting, she rolled away from Sobeck, cartwheeling back to her feet as her opponent lashed out once more. 

Throwing out her hand, Ahsoka called her shoto back to herself, but she watched Sobeck bat it away midflight with the electrostaff, a sneer painted on his face. 

“You Jedi are so predictable.”

The battle droids around the room lay in small heaps, demolished by Echo. Out of the corner of her eye, Ahsoka watched the clone fight the remaining super battle droid, leading it on a merry chase around the stations. It seemed that he was nearly finished, judging by the many blaster burns that covered the large droid’s armored torso. 

“Commander, the door!” Echo cried. 

Ahsoka’s attention immediately snapped to the open doorway in horror. She’d completely forgotten about the incoming droids. 

_Kriffing hells, I’ve done it now._

Sobeck hissed—the only warning Ahsoka received before the Phindian swung the electrostaff at her face. She dodged, eyes still focused on the doorway. 

_I need to finish this quickly._

Echo took up position behind the still-sparking holotable, blaster aimed at the doorway. On his own, Ahsoka knew that he could deal with the vast majority of the incoming forces, barring destroyers or the deadly commandos. 

As Sobeck lashed out once more, Ahsoka concentrated on the handle of the electrostaff, twisting to the side as the Phindian lunged forwards. With a feral grin, her blades cut the metallic weapon into thirds, the midsection landing on the ground with a rather loud _clank_. Sobeck’s once-cocky grin vanished as he retreated, throwing the remnants of the useless staff to the ground. 

_Got him._

Taking advantage of her opponent’s hesitation, Ahsoka flew forward, hellbent on interrogating him. Mid-leap, however, that idea was quickly driven from her mind by the arrival of the droids. 

Wave after wave of battle droids came through the door, the air vibrating with their red-tinted blasterfire. Behind the holotable, Echo opened fire. Sobeck hit the floor even as Ahsoka leaped atop the nearest command station, her blades creating a green blur before her as she blocked the incoming fire. 

One by one, the droids fell, but not quickly enough. 

“Echo, the door!” Ahsoka cried out, her hand flying forward. 

The door’s access panel bleeped even as the sliding panel began to shut. With a screech, the door caught on the limp frame of a fallen droid, refusing to close any further. 

_It closed enough. That should slow them._

Sobeck drew away from Ahsoka, drawing something from within his vest and laughing manickly. The air filled with the humming of another lightsaber, its violently-blue blade coming down in a deadly arc towards Echo. The clone turned, and Ahsoka felt fear spark through the Force. 

Throwing herself between Sobeck and his prey, Ahsoka blocked the strike with her lightsabers, plastering a cocky grin on her face just to spite him. Behind her, Echo resumed his watch on the door, shooting a stray battle droid. 

_What a foolish move on Sobeck’s part,_ she thought, _that’s Master Obi-Wan’s lightsaber…_

Sobeck, despite his obvious lack of experience with a saber, put up a decent fight. For a while, he and Ahsoka traded blows before he finally let his guard slip. In one savage strike, Ahsoka disarmed him—quite literally. Both the lightsaber and the muscular hand that held it thudded to the ground. 

With a heavy Force push, Ahsoka sent the warden sprawling against the wall. Sobeck’s large, thickly-muscled body seemed to fold in on itself, curling around the bleeding stump that had once been his left arm. 

For such a gruesome, and violent act, she had very little sympathy for the Phindian; after all, this was the same person who had _personally_ seen to the deaths of many Jedi. 

Blasterfire reverberated throughout the command block as a super battle droid poked its ugly, metallic face into the room, and Ahsoka ducked behind a nearby console. 

_One enemy down, twenty more to go, but first: communications._

Splaying her hand, Ahsoka called Obi-Wan’s lightsaber to her, feeling a slight thrill as the famous lightsaber answered her call. She caught the hilt between her fingers and clipped it to her belt. 

Upon a quick scan of the room, it was clear that the command center could still function even without its staff. Ahsoka suppressed a sigh. It seemed that she had to do this the old-fashioned—and more difficult—way. 

Trusting Echo to hold off the oncoming procession of droids, she hopped from station to station, checking the stats that flashed on each screen. Each time, for better or worse, she turned each setting to the “off” setting. 

_Defensive shields:_ off. 

_Lower level interior defense grid:_ off.

 _Upper level interior defense grid:_ off.

Lightsaber humming in her palm, Ahsoka cleaved through the blaster-burned station, separating it into two non-functional pieces before moving to the next panel. 

_Upper level life support system:_ on. 

_Lower level life support system:_ on. 

For one horrible moment, Ahsoka’s hand had wavered over the “off” switch before she caught herself. Without hesitation, she melted that station as well. Nobody was going to fiddle with those controls. 

Upon hearing more blasterfire from behind her, Ahsoka picked up the pace, skimming through the next few stations—and destroying them—before finally finding what she’d been searching for. On the smallest station yet, she found a set of two screens: 

_External broadband communications: [restricted]_

_External Third-party communications: [restricted]_

_._

_._

_All External communications: [restricted]_

The same list was presented on the other screen, yielding the exact same results. Letting out a breath that she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, Ahsoka set everything to _[open]_ before carving a large “X” through the monitor. 

As the chunks of metal collided with the floor, Echo called out a warning. Turning to face the door, Ahsoka got a flash of dark brown metal before the entire section of wall erupted into fire. Shrapnel and flaming bits of wall flew in every direction, cutting into Ahsoka’s skin even as she dove for cover. 

Then the Commando droids were in the room, vaulting over the impressive pile of battle droids still stacked just outside the entrance. Ahsoka’s eyes burned as she looked up, taking in the team of brownish droids that had somehow forced the door open. 

_Echo._

Calling her fallen lightsabers to her, Ahsoka leaped towards the stunned, white figure several yards before her. She got there just in time to block several shots from the first droid. 

“Echo, you alright?” 

The clone’s discomfort resounded through the Force even as he groaned aloud, a hand fumbling for his blaster. 

“Damn Commandos—”

Echo heaved himself up into a crouch and hefted his blaster, releasing a storm of bolts at the Commando droids still messing with the door. One of the brownish droids took a glancing shot to the arm, but both of them managed to dodge out of sight. Echo released a stream of curses as they reappeared seconds later, one of them punching the button to the door.

No longer blocked from the room, the two droids joined their teammate, who was still firing at Ahsoka. 

_Three Commando droids…_

“I’ll give you an opening.” Ahsoka took a deep breath before putting all the rest of her energy into one powerful Force shove, sending the three droids flying back. Echo, with his terrific aim, nailed one through its metal skull, frying the other with two shots to the chest. The third, however, merely toppled to the floor when Ahsoka’s stamina died out. 

Arms dropping and blinking heavily, Ahsoka finally felt the long hours of physical exertion. It was as though molten lead had been injected into her blood, burning her insides. For several seconds, she watched the Commando reorient itself in slow motion, her arms refusing to respond. 

Disembodied voices whispered in her mind, chanting for death and destruction even as the sound of rushing wind filled her ears. She was falling, trapped on the ship, her possessed Master bent over the steering shaft, darkness radiating off of him… 

Maybe it was because Anakin used to encourage individual thinking, or Rex’s example of leadership, but Ahsoka found herself being roughly dragged out of the room by Echo; the air hummed with laser fire behind them as the clone fired over his shoulder at the remaining droid. 

Ahsoka did not resist—or rather _could not_. She was tired, so very tired. As if drawn to that one fallen droid, she turned to look back at it.

Nothing.

_I was hallucinating. That or concussed—probably concussed. Tired, so tired…_

Something clicked in her brain as they finally burst out into the corridor. Raising her lightsaber slowly, she deflected two would-be fatal shots from the Commando before hurriedly looking around. 

“We’re all clear.”

“Wait!” Ahsoka saw the explosive fly in slow motion, the small rectangular, Seperatist-built grenade, flip end over end through the air towards them. 

_How did the Commando get his hands on—oh, no, I can’t let this get any closer._

Gathering the last vestiges of her energy together, Ahsoka raised her hands and pushed outwards with the Force. It was more than enough power, too much probably, as the grenade shot quickly back across the command deck and back into its owner’s hands. 

The room shook, flames bursting out the door, knocking Ahsoka down for a second time. Cheek pressed against the metal floor panels, Ahsoka inched her face off the floor to inspect the damage. 

She nearly cried in relief at what she saw. 

Everything in the command center was trashed, either blown to smithereens or riddled with blaster shots. As for the droids, well, they weren’t in much better shape, their metal bodies littering the room in small heaps. The viewports that had previously overlooked Lola Sayu’s volcanic landscape were now shattered, covering the floor with glittering fragments of composite. 

“We did it,” Ahsoka whispered to herself. 

The journey through the corridors of the Citadel’s detention center proved to be relatively uneventful compared to Obi-Wan’s _first_ attempt at rescuing Master Piell. To his surprise, R2-D2 made quite a lively companion, especially for a droid, but considering the fact that this was Anakin’s astromech, Obi-Wan was not all that surprised.

As he moved through the detention center’s convoluted corridors, Master Piell’s Force presence became more and more noticeable; that being said, however, ‘noticeable’ was a relative term. The Force felt heavy, drenched with an echoing misery that reminded him of the countless number of Jedi and other Force sensitives who have been trapped and killed there. 

Shaking his head, Obi-Wan pulled himself out of his thoughts, choosing to focus on the task at hand. He needed to get to Master Piell and break him out of his cell. Then, they would have to find a way to contact the Temple and leave the Citadel without detection.

It was...a delicate situation, to say the least.

R2-D2 let out a quiet beep as Obi-Wan stopped at the corner of the hallway, his body concealed by the lip of the blast doors, which stood open. He peered down the corridor; he _had_ to be prepared for anything. Last time, he had troops with him; this time, he was on his own. 

In the half-light of the detention block, two MagnaGuards stood at attention, flanked by six Commando droids. Though they were mostly still, their heads turned slowly, scanning the hall for any signs of life. 

_That must be Master Piell’s location; that would be the only explanation for such a heavy guard._

Obi-Wan let out a quiet breath before shrinking into the shadows. Looking upwards, he spied a small camera turret, its scanner gently rotating in order to get a clear view of the hall.

_We can’t have that, now, can we?_

“Artoo, can you tap into that camera? We must not be detected,” Obi-Wan murmured to his droid companion. 

The astromech bumped into him gently, in what could only be an affectionate gesture, before turning towards the panel just behind them. Within a few moments, Artoo let out another beep, whirling away from the panel and towards Obi-Wan almost expectantly.

_It never ceases to amaze me how much of a personality Anakin’s droid has._

Exhaling, Obi-Wan readied himself, unclipping the lightsaber from his belt. Every single droid guarding that cell posed a significant threat. Count Dooku had certainly put serious Separatist money into the defense of this prison. MagnaGuards and Commandos ranked among some of the most expensive units to produce in the droid army.

And for a reason. Their design was lethal in combat—on both accounts—notoriously difficult to pin down with blasterfire. 

Obi-Wan saw a plan begin to form in his mind. The three guards closest to him could be taken down with the Force. If he pushed them through the entire width of defenses, then he—assuming that he worked quickly—could take out a good number of them before they recovered. 

_But the MagnaGuards could block…a distraction, that’s all I need._

He clipped his lightsaber back to his belt, keenly aware of Artoo’s optical sensor taking in his every move. 

Peering back around the corner, Obi-Wan took a deep breath and let himself sink into the Force, extending one arm. Savagely, he ripped the farthest Commando droid’s E-5 blaster rifle out of its hands. The metallic weapon shot towards him, slamming into the closer MagnaGuard’s midsection. Sweat pricked on Obi-Wan’s forehead, and he threw his other palm out, shifting his focus to fumbling on the trigger of the E-5. 

Ordinary battle droids, in their rather rudimentary programming, would have reacted to the situation with complete and utter confusion. These droids, however, seemed instantly alert of the danger. 

The MagnaGuard and four of the six Commandos backed off down the hall with their weapons raised. The unarmed Commando and the other two fled towards Obi-Wan’s position, blasters at the ready. The MagnaGuard on the floor, however, seemed reluctant to move, its shielding riddled with smoking holes. Much to Obi-Wan’s disappointment, it seemed to have been unscathed by the bizarre attack. 

Abruptly dropping the blaster, Obi-Wan flew into action. Lashing out with his foot, he sent the unarmed Commando to the floor, igniting the lightsaber into the chest of another. The third flipped away from his strike and drew a vibroblade. 

Blaster fire peppered the wall next to him, and Obi-Wan rolled to the side, putting the Commando droid between himself and the remaining forces at the far end of the hall. Artoo squawked in alarm as bolts whizzed past him, retreating as well. 

The vibroblade whisked past Obi-Wan’s ear, making him take a few steps back, cursing under his breath. Not even a second later and the barrel of the E-5 let loose a barrage of fire over his head as he ducked, deflecting more shots that exploded all around him. 

_Draw the kriffing thing around the corner._

Retreating even a few more steps, Obi-Wan lured the droid around the corner before flying at it once more. He jabbed forwards—the droid dodged to the side. He aimed a slice at its legs—it vaulted off the wall and shot at his chest. 

Finally, he grabbed the thing around the middle with the Force, and threw it behind him, crushing it into a wrinkled ball. The vibroblade skidded into Artoo who promptly picked it up and rolled towards him. 

Offering the droid a “thank you” and a nod, Obi-Wan gingerly took the blade. 

_Not my weapon of choice, but it’s appreciated._

A combination of squeaks and metallic footsteps indicated the approach of the other three Commandos. Obi-Wan, throwing caution to the wind, rushed around the corner to meet them head-on. 

_Careful, Kenobi, he told himself_ , _you’re pulling an Anakin._

It was _exactly_ as he’d expected: the droids were right around the corner, waiting. 

Swinging the vibroblade above his head, he threw it as hard as he could at the MagnaGuard in the middle of the pack, propelling it along with the Force. The droid moved swiftly, deflecting it away from a vulnerable chink in its armor by the handle—it lodged itself in the plating near where a human collar bone would be. 

The Commando droids kept moving, circling around his right side in hopes of pinning him to the wall on his left. For what felt like ages, the four droids danced around him; then the other MagnaGuard rushed through their formation, blaster burns still smoking, and attacked Obi-Wan. 

The hall exploded into chaos. 

Together the MagnaGuards attacked, their programming allowing for seamless teamwork; behind them, the Commandos still circled, shooting at every chance, still determined to box in their prey. 

Obi-Wan, at the center of all the fray, was losing ground—fast. Given the situation, he’d lost track of Artoo and could only hope that the droid wasn’t damaged or shot to pieces. 

Anakin’s lightsaber was a vibrant blue blur as he dodged and blocked as many strikes as he could. While he was managing so far, it was only a matter of time before he’d end up in a completely different corridor from the detention block. 

Plus, he could feel himself beginning to tire. 

Finally, he managed to pin one of the Magnaguards’s electrostaffs to the wall. Panting, he saw the droid’s counterpart lunge forwards, its own staff rapidly closing in on Obi-Wan’s exposed side. A Commando appeared to his left and, pulling strength from the Force, Obi-Wan saw his chance. 

The Commando droid flew off of its feet, barreling into the pinned Magnaguard’s side. With a sudden kick, Obi-Wan sent the two tangled droids sprawling backwards, bringing his lightsaber down on top of them. The remaining Magnaguard’s weapon clanged against the wall, leaving a large scrape where the metal clashed. 

Unfortunately for Obi-Wan, however, he was now wide open to the remaining two Commandos, who took that opportunity to fill the air with red blasterfire. Obi-Wan threw himself behind the still-standing, bullet-ridden Magnaguard, and let himself slide quickly into an Ataru stance. 

He had more space now, and hopefully this would end quickly. 

As it turned out, the fight ended in a different way then he’d expected. The remaining droids had taken up a pyramid-shaped formation, leaving the Commando in the back open to attack. Artoo had taken it upon himself to enter the fight and promptly sawed the surprised droid’s leg into two, spraying it with some tar-like substance before lighting it on fire. 

Obi-Wan was pleasantly surprised at the sheer amount of weaponry stored within the small astromech, but found himself more than relieved that Anakin’s droid had survived. Upon finishing up with the first droid, Artoo promptly went into turbo-mode, screeching as he charged for the Magnaguard’s metallic legs. With ease, the large droid jumped aside. 

The last Commando’s fatal mistake came when it tried to land a vibroblade strike at the same time that the Magnaguard lunged. Collectively, the droids had fallen out of sync. Obi-Wan easily countered the blows, landing a kick to the Commando’s midsection before cleaving the droid’s head off. The Magnaguard tried to recover, but Artoo zapped it in the leg, drawing its attention long enough for Obi-Wan to slice it right down the middle. 

Suddenly, all was silent save for the hiss of steam rising from the red-hot metal of the collapsed guard. Obi-Wan staggered slightly as a wave of fatigue washed over him. Was it sheer luck that he’d managed to survive that? No, Jedi didn’t believe in luck. He’d trained for decades for combat. 

_Karking hells, I’m exhausted._

Breathing deeply, he extinguished Anakin’s lightsaber before letting himself sag against the wall. 

_That was a lot of fighting for one day. It wasn’t like fighting at the front; no, those are just point-and-shoot droids. This was like a duel, a long duel._

Artoo whistled at his knees, shaking slightly. The droid sounded inquisitive. 

“Yes, yes, I’m quite alright, Artoo,” he replied, resisting a smile at the droid. 

He ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair, which had fallen into his face sometime during the battle. 

_I’m getting too old for this._

Pushing himself off the wall, Obi-Wan strode down the corridor. With every passing moment, he half-expected an entire army of droids to converge on his location. His path, however, remained clear. As he reached the detention block, his pace slowed.

The place seemed eerily deserted, and Obi-Wan suddenly found himself grateful for Artoo’s company.

As he reached what should’ve been Piell’s cell, Obi-Wan hesitated. The Force indicated that the Jedi Master was behind the door, but there was no telling else would be on the other side.

The door slid open, revealing a room similar in appearance to the one he was in not too long ago. In the center of the open space, Master Piell hung from a containment field. A MagnaGuard wielding an electrostaff stood in front of the Lannik Master, and the same hunchbacked torture droid stood to the side, bringing a wicked looking needle towards the his face. 

_He’s going to lose his vision any second,_ Obi-Wan realized. Revolted by the prospect, he lunged forwards. 

Obi-Wan ignited the lightsaber and slashed it through the MagnaGuard’s circuitry. He then plunged the saber into the torture droid’s head—it let out an echoing scream before he slashed downwards, letting the pieces of the loathsome droid clatter to the ground.

Bending down, Obi-Wan swiped Anakin’s lightsaber across the containment field’s bottom generator. He quickly turned off the saber and placed it on his belt.

Barely managing to catch Master Piell before he crashed to the ground, Obi-Wan knelt down, propping Piell up against the generator. The Master was alive, but he looked deathly pale, his eyes betraying the sheer relief of being rescued. 

“Master Piell, are you alright?” he asked, placing a hand on Piell’s shoulder.

“Obi-Wan,” Master Piell replied, looking up at him with amusement shining in his eyes, “what took you so long?”

Behind him, R2-D2 beeped and held out a lightsaber with a small white handle. The droid sported a blaster burn on his left side, but looked rather well for how much combat he’d been exposed to. 

At the sight of the lightsaber, Piell grinned, pulling himself slowly to his feet. The weariness seemed to melt from his face as he took in the astromech. He took the lightsaber and looked up at Obi-Wan again, tilting his head slightly.

Artoo must have seen something in Piell’s expression because Obi-Wan found the droid rolling towards him with a soft, questioning beep. Obi-Wan smiled gently before patting the astromech gently and looking back at Piell.

“I must ask, Master Piell, do you have the coordinates for the Nexus Route?” Obi-Wan asked, partly to confirm the information that the Temple had received before the mission.

Still staring directly at him, Piell’s eyes narrowed. Obi-Wan felt the Jedi Master’s presence expand in the Force, taking in everything around them. Though Piell hadn’t scanned Obi-Wan’s mind, he felt oddly self-conscious as the elder’s senses filled the room. 

After a moment, Piell leaned back against the containment field generator, deep in thought.

“I got them, alright,” Piell replied, “Half of them, anyway. My captain’s got the other half.”

Obi-Wan blinked. That was…a possibility he hadn't considered. Now there was more to this mission than he and the extraction team had expected—something that invited complications.

“I erased the computers when we were boarded and had both of us memorize part of the intel. That way, if somehow I cracked, the information would be useless without the other half,” Master Piell continued, almost distractedly. “Obi-Wan, something—”

“Where’s your captain?” Obi-Wan asked quickly, before Piell could finish.

Master Piell continued staring up at him, brows furrowed. “Being held with the other officers, I assume,” he replied.

“Well, we’ll need to search for them and then find a way to get out of here.” Obi-Wan pulled himself to his feet. “We should hurry.”

He turned, making for the cell’s exit.

“Obi-Wan.”

Piell’s voice was serious. Obi-Wan let out a quiet breath before rotating slowly to face the Lannik Master. Artoo was looking directly at him, his visual sensor searching him almost questioningly.

Piell’s eyes narrowed again before they focused on the lightsaber hanging from Obi-Wan’s belt. “That lightsaber, it’s Skywalker’s, isn’t it?” he asked quietly.

Obi-Wan bowed his head. “He’s—he is one with the Force now, Master,” he said. “And I—”

He cut himself off.

That painful burn in his chest had returned with a vengeance. Like floodgates, the grief filled him once more. 

What was he supposed to say? That he failed Anakin and Ahsoka? That he failed Qui-Gon, for not being able to even keep the Chosen One alive long enough to allow him to bring balance to the Force?

That everything was on the verge of falling apart, of _shattering_ , and all he could do was watch, knowing that it was all his fault?

_I must focus, I am on a mission. This can be meditated on another time._

“We can talk about this later, Obi-Wan,” Piell said after a few long moments, eyes kind. “We should look for my captain. I assume you didn’t stage this rescue completely by yourself?”

Obi-Wan nodded slowly, immediately bringing his thoughts back to the present. There was no time for him to feel sorry for himself; he only had to keep moving, to keep _going_.

“There were some…complications,” Obi-Wan replied. “I’ve lost contact with my team; communications have been down since we were separated.”

“Yes, Sobeck happened to mention that to me during one of his…visits here.” Piell snorted, pulling himself off the generator. He walked over to the cell’s exit, and Obi-Wan followed him outside. R2-D2 rolled along behind them.

Upon exiting, Obi-Wan felt a wave of relief wash over him. No one had discovered them as of yet.

“Do you know where your captain and other officers might be held?” Obi-Wan asked.

Master Piell shrugged a shoulder, looking down the corridor, brows furrowed. “I’m not sure. I would assume that—”

A thunderous explosion rocked through the corridor, emanating from somewhere above them. Staggering, Obi-Wan stared up at the ceiling, seeing a little smoke filter out of the vents.

Beside him, Piell let out an exasperated huff, staring up at the ceiling as well. The Jedi Master had gripped the wall in order to stay upright. 

“I assume that that would be the rest of your team,” he said matter-of-factly. “We should go up there and investigate; it might do to regroup.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Yes, you’re right, Master,” he replied. He looked down the corridor to his right, still littered with fallen droids He remembered seeing a stairwell when he walked by earlier… 

_The other corridor to the left leads downwards, if I recall the archive data correctly. That would mean that the way up is to my right._ He thought. _At least this time, I won’t be pursued by droids._

“This way,” he announced.

They rushed down the corridor and up the steps, ignoring the security cameras. Obi-Wan knew that the command center was directly above them and that it was highly likely that the room itself was the location of the disturbance. 

He also had a gut feeling that he knew who was behind it. 

As they rushed towards the command center, a low haze of smoke filled the corridor. Eyes watering, Obi-Wan suppressed the urge to cough.

Ironically, the closer they came to where the Command center _should_ be located, the smoke began to thin, giving way to small bursts of haze. 

As they made their final turn, Obi-Wan caught sight of two figures pulling themselves from the ground. Both were covered in ash and soot. 

“Master Kenobi?”

At the sound of Ahsoka’s voice, Obi-Wan let out a relieved breath. The two figures came closer to him and Piell, and soon he saw his Grandpadawan running towards him, covered in ash and soot but very much alive. Behind her was Echo, whose relief poured out into the Force.

“Ahsoka, what happened?” Obi-Wan asked, turning towards her. It was difficult to see her clearly in the smoke, but she appeared to be mostly alright, if a bit winded from the smoke.

Before she could reply, the sound of something crashing to the ground echoed through the corridor, followed immediately by heavy footsteps pounding towards them.

Ahsoka tensed before looking at Obi-Wan and Master Piell.

“Masters, I’m really glad to see you, but we need to get out of here,” Ahsoka said quickly, though her eyes were wide, swirling with a mixture of relief, concern, and curiosity.

Obi-Wan turned towards Master Piell, who nodded in agreement.

“What about Fives?” Echo asked. As if on cue , the missing trooper ran into view, left shoulder wrapped in a makeshift sling while his other hand gripped tightly onto a blaster.

“I heard explosions,” Fives said breathlessly, then his eyes flicked to Obi-Wan and Piell as though he’d only just noticed them. “Generals, it’s _really_ good to see you.” He nodded before turning back to Ahsoka, eyes bright. “With all due respect, we need to go… _now_.”

Piell smirked, his amusement sparking out into the Force, sending warmth into Obi-Wan’s veins.

“Well, let’s go then,” he said, and with that, they ran.

Once they’d made their way out of the Command Block and down to the lower levels and the detention area, they slowed down, coming to a halt in the darkened area.

Almost immediately after they stopped, Piell let out a sigh and leaned against a wall. Some color had slowly returned to the Lannik Master’s face, but Obi-Wan knew that he had very little energy to spare. 

They needed to get out of Lola Sayu _now_.

“I suppose this is a good place to rest,” Obi-Wan commented, pulling himself out of his thoughts. The area surrounding them was relatively empty, with the exception of the crumpled battle droids he’d encountered earlier.

Ahsoka sighed in relief. Fives and Echo sat down opposite to Master Piell, Echo carefully examining Fives’ shoulder. Obi-Wan watched them for a moment before he turned away, feeling as though he was intruding on something deeply personal.

“You’re using Anakin’s lightsaber.”

Ahsoka’s voice was quiet and full of wonder. Her eyes caught onto the sleeves of his tunics, thoroughly ripped from his earlier escape. There were questions shining in her eyes, but he couldn’t bring himself to answer fully.

Not right now. There would be time later.

Obi-Wan focused before glancing at Ahsoka’s belt. “You have mine,” he observed in a similar tone.

Ahsoka exhaled a laugh before she handed his lightsaber back to him. Obi-Wan accepted it gratefully, placing it carefully next to Anakin’s lightsaber on his belt.

“Sobeck said you were captured. I was—you’re alright?” Her voice cracked just for a moment, and he felt a rush of concern flowing into their bond.

_Force, she’d only just lost Anakin; I can’t afford to be as reckless as I have been on this mission._

Obi-Wan nodded. “Are you?” he asked quietly. He sat down slowly, allowing himself to indulge slightly in the notion of rest. Standing without moving at all was very quickly reminding him about how much he’d been exerting himself and exactly how exhausted he actually was.

Ahsoka huffed quietly, sitting down next to him. “As alright as I could be,” she replied. “I just want to go home.”

“Me too,” Obi-Wan said, though he didn’t quite know what home would bring. “Me too.”

The empty detention block was as good of cover as they were going to get, Ahsoka decided. Regardless, the place still gave her the creeps. The first thing she’d done after her brief chat with Obi-Wan was go through all the cells. From her exploration, there was one thing she’d become certain of:

Every single cell was custom-built for Jedi. 

Ahsoka found herself both relieved and slightly disturbed after her exploration of the block. While Piell had been the only incarcerated Jedi that she was aware of, several cells stank of death and one featured a dark substance splattered all over its floor. As she’d made to enter the farthest cell from their position, Obi-Wan had called out to her, instructing that she not enter that particular room. 

Naturally, her interest was piqued, but Ahsoka moved on all the same. Obi-Wan wouldn’t ask her to do such a thing without good reason. 

Both Jedi Masters looked rather worse for wear—and she was no exception. The Clones had removed their helmets and were running checks on their weapons. Their eyes showed no fatigue, but Ahsoka could sense Fives’ pain in the Force like a beacon. Thankfully, the injured clone seemed to be doing better than before. 

“Now that we are together, our first move should be to contact Master Plo,” Obi-Wan said solemnly, addressing the group. “I’m assuming that the rest of my team is being held in the lower prison block. Their safety cannot be guaranteed, but my guess is that they are being held separately along with your men.” 

Obi-Wan looked at Master Piell, who nodded in agreement, his ears dipping with the movement. 

“Obi-Wan, you said that Master Plo was the decoy for this whole operation?” Piell shifted his posture, a hand tapping thoughtfully against his chin. 

The other Jedi’s face seemed to morph into a frown. “Yes. I cannot shake the feeling that we’ve had it easy in here. Doesn’t it seem odd that there are so few droids around?” 

A mental picture of Master Plo’s team facing off against a massive army of droids sent a wave of dread through her. It was clear that the diversion had succeeded, but at what cost?

On that cheery note, Obi-Wan looked at Ahsoka, as if expecting something. “Ahsoka, neither Master Piell nor I have communicators. The kind warden saw to that. If you would be so kind.”

Ahsoka drew in a breath before opening Master Plo’s channel on her wrist comm. For a terrifying moment, there was nothing but static. Shooting Obi-Wan a desperate look, she leaned in towards the mic. 

“Hello? Master Plo, this is Ahsoka. Do you read?” 

For one horrible moment, the static persisted. Then, much to Ahsoka’s relief, the Kel Dor’s voice filled the air. 

_“Padawan Ahsoka, it’s good to hear from you.”_

She hadn’t even realized she’d been holding her breath until then. Exhaling, she collected herself before speaking. 

“What’s your status? I have Masters Obi-Wan and Piell with me.”

 _“I take it that you’re the only one with communications?”_ Plo asked. Ahsoka had to suppress the grin that threatened to creep up her lips. 

_I always forget how perceptive Master Plo is. He realized that, logically, it would’ve been Obi-Wan to comm if we were in a group._

At that moment, Obi-Wan took it upon himself to speak up. 

“Master Plo, what’s your status?”

Plo took a moment to respond and, beyond the crackle of bad signal, Ahsoka heard the muted sound of explosions. 

_“Fall back to the archway. On my command, blow the ceiling!”_

The command was followed by several _‘yes sirs’_ from Plo’s men. 

Obi-Wan and Piell exchanged looks. To Ahsoka, that hadn’t sounded good, and it seemed like Obi-Wan and Piell felt the exact same way. 

Audible blasterfire could be heard on the channel followed by the whistle of a projectile speeding towards its target. The resulting explosion distorted the channel’s audio so badly that when Plo began to speak, his words were barely distinguishable. 

_“We’ve taken heavy fire. It’s hard to count—but I be—can hold—some more time,”_ Master Plo replied, voice crackling loudly over the explosion.

The sound of the explosion slowly died away, clearing the audio to the point that Plo’s voice was clear over the sound of blasterfire.

 _“We have taken a defensive position in the outskirts,”_ Master Plo continued. _“It’s relatively close to a landing platform towards the east end of the Citadel.”_

Obi-Wan nodded slowly. “We can make our way to that platform after rescuing Master Piell’s men. Master Windu’s fleet is nearby; I’m sure he can stage a pickup from the platform.” He stroked his beard, eyebrows furrowed slightly. “Ahsoka, would you be able to patch Master Windu in?”

“Sure thing, Master,” she replied, pulling her wrist comm back towards herself as she configured the communication to add another frequency. Ahsoka sent the request to Master Windu’s comm, and soon enough, another distinct voice filtered out of the commlink’s speakers.

_“Windu here.”_

“Master Windu,” Obi-Wan greeted. He opened his mouth to continue but was immediately cut off.

 _“Obi-Wan, it’s been a while since we’ve heard from you.”_ If Ahsoka didn’t know any better, she would have thought Master Windu sounded worried. _“What’s your status?”_

“We had a bit of a situation with communications, but Ahsoka resolved it,” Obi-Wan answered. “Also, we’ve extracted Master Piell, but his men are still unaccounted for.”

“Hello, Master Windu,” Master Piell greeted, leaning slightly into the commlink’s mic.

 _“I’m glad to hear from you, Master Piell. We didn’t know whether we’d be able to find you here,”_ Master Windu replied, voice crackling slightly over the commlink. _“What of the Nexus Route coordinates?”_

Master Piell nodded. “My captain and I each have half of the intel. My men are still imprisoned, but we are close enough to their position to stage a quick rescue,” he replied.

“There is just one problem, Master Windu.” Obi-Wan’s voice was quiet, thoughtful. “We had a bit of a situation with the ship.”

“By ‘situation’, he means ‘giant explosion’,” Ahsoka supplied, smirking slightly. Master Piell let out a chuckle, leaning back slightly against the column as he listened.

The commlink crackled. _“Master Windu, we need a pickup. We have no way to get off this planet,”_ Master Plo explained, voice muffled by the sounds of shouting and blasterfire. _“My team is holding position outside the Citadel.”_

“We can secure the platform near them, Master Windu,” Ahsoka said, almost desperately. “We just need the pickup.”

Over the commlink, Ahsoka heard Master Windu make a humming sound, clearly deep in thought. A few gut-wrenching moments passed before he responded.

_“Master Mundi will is currently on standby with the rest of the 212th and 104th. He can engage the blockade and send out a ship to pick you up.”_

Ahsoka let out a sigh of relief. Finally, things were going right.

Obi-Wan smiled at her for a moment before he responded. “That would be much appreciated, Master Windu,” he said. “We’ll make our way to the platform as soon as possible.”

 _“We can hold out long enough for you to secure the platform, and then we can meet you there,”_ Master Plo replied.

Ahsoka nodded, even though she knew Master Plo couldn’t see her. This was going to work, she was sure of it.

 _“I will tell Master Mundi to engage the blockade. Once the fleet gets past the blockade, I will contact you both,”_ Master Windu said.

“Sounds good, Master Windu,” Ahsoka said as Obi-Wan and Piell both nodded in agreement.

 _“I agree.”_ Ahsoka barely heard Master Plo’s voice now. Another explosion crackled into the commlink, and she winced. _“If you’ll excuse me, I must return to my men. Plo out.”_

The connection with Master Plo dissipated, leaving Master Windu still available.

 _“Let us know once you’ve arrived and secured the platform,”_ Master Windu commanded, voice colored with steel. 

“We will, Master Windu,” Obi-Wan promised.

_“Excellent. May the Force be with you. Windu out.”_

The commlink disconnected with a final crackling sound, leaving the three Jedi staring at each other.

“We’re rescuing the others first, then?” Echo asked softly, having listened to the entire conversation. Sitting next to him, Fives’ head was leaned back against the wall, eyes half-lidded. He wasn’t exactly asleep, but Ahsoka felt the pain and exhaustion easily emanating from him.

They really needed to hurry and get out of here.

Ahsoka glanced down the corridor, reaching out in the Force slightly for any familiar presences. Then she felt it.

“They’re on the other side of the detention block,” she said, nodding slowly. “I think it would be best if we all go there right now and get them out of there.”

“You’re right,” Obi-Wan agreed, nodding.

“Well, let’s go get our men back, then,” Master Piell said, smiling slightly.

Finally it seemed like everything was going right on this mission. It would only be a matter of time until they would leave this kriffing rock and go home.

It would only be a matter of time.

“Sorry for the interruption, Sirs, but what exactly is happening right now?”

Boil’s voice seemed to echo in the far reaches of Obi-Wan’s mind. Staring upwards, he scoured the sky for any sign of an ambush, blissfully unaware of the concerned clone beside him. 

The Force was quieter than usual, almost silent, but he felt…

Well, there was this strange sensation rolling through him, probably what he would have called a “bad feeling” many years ago. He couldn’t make sense of whatever he was feeling now; there was no time, no energy to spare.

He blinked, realizing that no one had responded to Boil yet, and opened his mouth, only to be interrupted by the last person in the galaxy he wanted to speak to at the moment. .

“I have the same exact question,” Captain Tarkin said primly. “This all seems to be entirely unnecessary; we should just acquire one of the Separatists’ ships ourselves and leave this forsaken place. Staying here will get us nowhere, Jedi.”

Rescuing the men from detention block went a lot smoother than expected. The forces guarding both cells were relatively light, and none of the droids appeared to have called for reinforcements even after getting ambushed.

Piell’s men were exhausted, a large number of them injured from the capture or imprisonment.

Obi-Wan looked back at Master Piell, who was walking towards the back of the group, head bowed slightly. The Lannik Master appeared to be too tired to respond; his exhaustion was a steady current flowing out into the Force quite heavily.

Master Piell wasn’t exactly the only one.

Taking over the landing platform seemed to have sapped up the last of the team’s reserves—they’d just suffered two losses, both technicians from Piell’s company. Fives, in particular, looked about ready to collapse, Ahsoka’s seemingly unlimited store of energy seemed to be dwindling steadily, and Obi-Wan’s limbs and mind felt like lead, the events leading up to his capture and subsequent escape rapidly catching up with him. He could only thank the Force that he hadn’t suffered any worse a fate during that brief time in captivity. 

“Master Plo and his team have taken a position on the outskirts of the Citadel,” Obi-Wan replied, gesturing towards the approximate direction where he could feel Plo’s Force presence. “We need to rendezvous with them before we can leave, and even if we manage to find a ship here, we would not be able to make it past the blockade surrounding Lola Sayu. They have the whole place on lockdown.”

Tarkin’s eyebrows furrowed, but he didn’t reply, his irritation striking harshly into the Force.

Boil nodded before he turned towards Waxer to assess the blaster burn on his arm.

Obi-Wan turned away from the sight and looked up at the sky again.

The landing platform was definitely secure. It was now a matter of holding position until Master Plo arrived, and then waiting for the transport from the Temple.

Waiting would not be so difficult and Master Plo’s transmission had seemed fairly optimistic.

“Master, look!”

Ahsoka’s voice brought him away from his thoughts, dragging him quickly back into the present. She was gesturing towards two STAPs settled neatly near the edge of the platform, next to a pair of scrapped B1 battle droids.

Obi-Wan blinked before reaching for one of the STAPs. The cool metal of the controls sent shivers up his arm. One of Anakin’s strategies had always been to board one of them during a ground assault. It was like podracing to him.

Wordlessly, Ahsoka grabbed the other one, and together, they flew up into Lola Sayu’s sky. Obi-Wan hoped that they’d get a visual on Master Plo and his team.

“There!” Ahsoka shouted over the roar of the engines, pointing into the volcanic expanse of darkness that appeared to be several klicks away from the landing platform. Between the haze and smoke, visibility was lousy, but it was enough. 

Obi-Wan’s blood went cold.

No less than two small droid dropships had landed between the Citadel and Master Plo’s position, blocking almost the entire battlefield from view. The only hint of the Jedi Master was the light of his lightsaber in the distance. Flitting in and out of view, the pale white of clone armor could be seen in the light cast from the occasional explosion. While Obi-Wan could _see_ the battlefield, it was nothing compared to the intensity screaming out into the Force.

“That’s not good,” he said softly, frowning.

Ahsoka nodded slowly. “What do we do?” she asked.

“We should return to the platform before someone spots us,” Obi-Wan replied after a few long moments.

The trip back was slow and quiet, Ahsoka looking sullenly in the distance towards Master Plo.

_She’s worried about him, of course she is._

If Anakin were here, Obi-Wan was sure that the man would’ve ridden the STAP all the way to Plo’s position and staged a rescue all on his own. But Anakin wasn’t here, and neither Ahsoka nor Obi-Wan were willing to risk the lives of their team to fly rashly into battle. 

Ahsoka would have to choose a new Master after the mission would be over. Obi-Wan tried not to think about it too much, just like he avoided thinking about Anakin or Mortis at all.

_The time for that will come. Until then, the mission takes precedence._

That being said, however, the nagging thoughts persisted. 

Soon, they would leave the Citadel and Lola Sayu and return to the Temple. Soon, Ahsoka would choose Master Plo and she would walk away from him.

Soon, he would be left alone.

As he landed on the platform, pleased to feel solid ground under his feet once again, Obi-Wan spotted Master Piell leaning against an outcropping of dark rock, face flushed with fatigue.

Some of Piell’s men were lying down, their backs pressed to the cold metal deck, too exhausted to move. Fives was propped against a column, letting Echo adjust his makeshift sling. Another tech was lying flat on his back, clearly unconscious. A medic was examining him carefully, brows furrowed.

_Piell’s men were most likely interrogated._

Obi-Wan took another look at the collapsed men. 

_No, I’m positive they were. None of them are in fighting shape._

Ahsoka sighed, carefully stretching her arms above her head. There were shadows under her eyes, and Obi-Wan found himself wondering if she slept at all since they landed. She was still covered in soot from the command center’s explosion, and her eyes were bright yet dark with exhaustion.

“We’ll wait for Master Plo,” he said quietly. “He said he can hold out and meet us here. We can’t risk losing this position right now.”

She nodded and yawned, covering her mouth with a hand. “I hope he’s alright,” she murmured before sitting down cross-legged on the floor, clearly exhausted.

“Get some sleep; I’ll take first watch,” Obi-Wan replied. Ahsoka nodded and closed her eyes. Through their bond, he felt her Force presence slip into a light sleep. He exhaled, letting his shoulders slump slightly.

 _Force_ , he was tired.

Obi-Wan turned away and walked towards a meditating Master Piell, intent on sitting down as well, before he was stopped by an irate Captain Tarkin.

“General Kenobi!”

Resisting the urge to sigh heavily, Obi-Wan turned to see the captain storming towards him. He dipped his head in greeting. “Captain.”

Tarkin scowled. “What kind of a rescue is this?” he snapped. “Most of your men are injured, the fleet is _late_ , and you are doing absolutely nothing. Sitting here and doing nothing makes us an easy target for Sobeck. You know that, Kenobi.”

A wave of frustration rose quickly in him, but Obi-Wan squashed it expertly. The situation was frustrating and unideal, but this was the best he could do.

“Look around, Captain,” he said softly.

Tarkin glared venomously at him before he glanced from side to side, taking in the sleeping or unconscious clones, most of the awake ones trying to treat each other’s injuries.

Ahsoka and Piell were both asleep now, their Force presences exuding calm into the Force.

“I understand your frustrations,” Obi-Wan continued. “We simply cannot go on without allowing the men to rest.”

Tarkin huffed. “This is exactly why the Jedi don’t belong in a position of command,” he snapped. “Your strategies are ineffective, and you are unwilling to take all the steps necessary to end this war.”

For a moment, Obi-Wan considered arguing back, letting the exhaustion and irritation come into view, but he pulled back. Now was hardly the time for this; the mission was far more important.

Before Obi-Wan could reply, the sharp beeping of a commlink echoed through the platform. Turning around, Obi-Wan spotted Ahsoka, awake again, staring down at her commlink with wide eyes. The Force shuddered.

Something was wrong.

“If you’ll excuse me, Captain,” Obi-Wan murmured, turning away before he could see Tarkin’s expression, though he felt Tarkin’s irritation rise as he stepped away, his presence needle-like in the Force.

When Obi-Wan knelt down next to Piell and Ahsoka, both were awake, staring up at him expectedly. Ahsoka pressed a button on the commlink, and the sound of blasterfire and a humming lightsaber echoed through.

Ahsoka’s brows furrowed as she moved closer.

“Master Plo?” she said tentatively.

A few moments passed as the sound of the lightsaber’s humming crackled through the commlink.

 _“Padawan Tano.”_ Master Plo’s voice was louder than the humming of the lightsaber and the blasterfire, and the clones surrounding them turned towards them at the sound of it, curiosity shining in their eyes.

_“I apologize, but we’re being overrun. We cannot make it to your position.”_

Obi-Wan’s heart sank to his stomach. This was really not good. He swallowed the dryness in his throat.

“We’ll come to you, then,” he said, and Piell nodded silently in agreement while Ahsoka’s eyes widened. “We can ask the extraction team to pick us up at a different location, if necessary.”

For a moment, all that echoed through the commlink was the crackling sounds of blasterfire, the lightsaber, and the distinct shouting of Plo’s men. Then—

_“Please hurry.”_

“We will, Master,” Ahsoka piped up. “Just hold on a little bit longer.”

The commlink disconnected, and the platform fell eerily silent. Obi-Wan felt everyone staring at him, waiting for him to say something, to decide when they would have to move forward and attempt to rescue Master Plo.

“Well,” he said, trying to keep his voice light. “We can wait a few minutes, to get the injured stabilized and to have everyone ready to move out. The priority is to get to Master Plo’s location as soon as possible.”

Silence echoed through the platform. Master Piell appeared to be contemplating something and Ahsoka stared down at the ground, her Force presence alight with apprehension.

Obi-Wan glanced sideways to where Rex and Cody were sitting, deep in conversation. “I’ll go ahead and inform Cody; he can—”

Ahsoka’s commlink beeped again. She stared at it incredulously for a moment before her fingers pressed the button once again.

“Tano here,” she said tentatively, voice curious.

_“Padawan Tano.”_

Master Windu’s voice was tense, somehow more tense than it was when he contacted them earlier. The “bad feeling” Obi-Wan felt in the Force seemed to amplify, almost the equivalent of something ringing in his ears.

 _“Are Masters Kenobi and Piell with you?”_ Master Windu continued.

“We’re here, Master Windu,” Obi-Wan replied, moving closer to the commlink. “Something is wrong, isn’t it?”

The few moments’ pause was all the confirmation he needed.

 _“Master Mundi had to order the fleet to retreat,”_ Master Windu said, voice urgent. _“He has discovered that both General Grievous and Count Dooku are present. Their combined forces have made breaking the blockade around Lola Sayu impossible with our current forces.”_

Obi-Wan closed his eyes. They had no way out, and now Grievous and Dooku were nearby. He tentatively reached into the Force, past the muffled darkness of the Citadel, beyond the atmosphere of Lola Sayu, and was met with a cold familiar presence, almost like a void in the Force.

_Dooku._

_“Even if we manage to break through the blockade, we will not be able to pick you up at your location. The area surrounding the Citadel is too hot, the control ship is sitting right on top of your position, and Separatist reinforcements are coming your way. You must make your way out, as soon as possible.”_

Opening his eyes, Obi-Wan saw Piell bowing his head, brows furrowed. Ahsoka stared back at him with wide eyes, and for the first time on this mission, Obi-Wan felt the full force of her anxiety through the bond.

Getting to Master Plo’s position would be difficult enough, but leaving the Citadel entirely and finding a place far enough away to avoid detection where they could be picked up?

It would be difficult, especially with how exhausted the team already was.

_“Padawan Tano?”_

Ahsoka appeared to be too stunned to reply, so Obi-Wan spoke up instead.

“Understood, Master Windu,” he croaked, and the commlink disconnected once again, leaving them in stunned silence.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the mission draws to a close, things go from bad to worse as the Separatist droids pursue Master Plo's team farther and farther away from the Citadel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes graphic scenes and various potential trigger points. Also, there are quotes from the show.  
> ~Pandora151
> 
> We hope you enjoy this monstrosity of a chapter!

Two squads of droids exited the Citadel, their blasters lighting up the air around them as the thrum of an anti-aircraft gun turret shook the ground. Ahsoka frantically blocked and weaved, taking out as many droids as she could. 

She had to draw their fire, in order to keep them away from Obi-Wan. 

Far off behind her, the retreating backs of her team, the clones, Piell’s men, and the Jedi Master himself, faded into the deep-purplish haze of Lola Sayu’s atmosphere. They would rendezvous soon, but she and Obi-Wan had a job to do first. 

Obi-Wan hunched over the controls of the anti-aircraft turret, his expression a mask of concentration. He was aiming for the point right where the Citadel’s construct thinned, prism-like, as it speared into the sky. The black building was aflame, sending billowing waves of dark grey smoke into the air. 

A deep groan split through the air, and Ahsoka couldn’t help but freeze, her eyes moving upwards. A large chunk of paneling was splitting off from the frame of the building, peeling downwards as its inner supports screamed in protest. 

“Ahsoka, get on the other turret; we need to hurry!” Obi-Wan’s shout cut sharply through the air as he ignited his lightsaber, deflecting fire from a droid who’d suddenly taken an interest in him. 

Throwing caution to the wind, Ahsoka spun on her heel and dashed in the opposite direction of her Grandmaster, lightsaber still batting away enemy fire as the droids pursued her. Pulling the Force around herself, she launched up towards the sky. The gun turret’s hard metal surface slammed into her legs as she perched onto the seat. 

The two droids who had chased her opened fire, standing just below the tower. With a well-aimed swipe with her lightsaber, she took out one, quickly dismantling the other with the Force. 

Leaving Obi-Wan to multitask with his own droids, she dropped into the seat and powered up the turret, turning the nose of the cannon towards the Citadel’s command center—or rather the rough location of where it should be. 

_I’m glad I powered down the defense grid…_

Sucking in a breath, she opened fire. 

Green light burst from the cannon. Moments later, fire and smoke lit up the command center as the whole surrounding area of the place exploded outwards. 

_I’m going to make sure that this place never inprisons another Jedi ever again,_ she thought savagely. 

The recoil from the gun jarred her teeth and shook her body as though she were a rag doll. Her hands ached from using the controls, and she took turns resting them in her lap. A newfound respect for the clone artillery gunners hit her as she realized that, Republic or Separatist, manning tanks like these for such a long time was difficult. 

It took her a moment to realize that Obi-Wan had stopped firing. Backing off from the trigger, she looked at him before her gaze snapped up to the Citadel’s structure. 

Obi-Wan squinted, then he twisted from the seat of the turret, frantically waving for her to follow suit. 

“Ahsoka, run!” he yelled, his voice raw. “We need to get out of here!” 

Ahsoka didn’t look back as the shriek of screeching metal filled the air. Propelling herself forward with the Force, arms and legs pumping, breaths short with exertion, she practically flew across the rest of the platform and onto the rough stone. 

She didn’t look back when the middle section of the Citadel, hanging by the skeletal remains of its foundation, careened into the fuel tanks on the lower docking area, unleashing an explosion that would’ve easily taken out two city blocks on Naboo.

The only time she did look back was when she’d reached Obi-Wan’s side, a safe distance away, when another explosion rocked the ground beneath them as the fires within the dying building reached the upper weapons bay. 

With flames and smoke blotting out the skies, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka turned their backs to the prison and set sights on finding the rest of their team. 

||

The landscape the team faced was just as bleak as the one they’d left. Obi-Wan and Ahsoka had almost immediately come across the group, as they trudged along one of the many small ravines formed by the multiple rock layers of the planet. 

Glancing back from where she walked at the head of the team, Ahsoka saw smoke rising from the horizon, flames still rising from the uppermost windows of the remains of the prison. 

Her gaze fell to the somber procession following her. 

Directly behind her, Waxer and Boil supported a banged-up technician between them, Artoo cruising at their heels. Ahsoka identified the man as one of the men who’d collapsed after their initial takeover of the landing platform. She would be willing to bet that his fatigue was a combination of malnutrition and interrogation. In the Force, Boil appeared to be slightly disoriented, small waves of pain emanating from him. 

_Concussion._

Next were Fives and Echo. While Echo stood tall, actively scanning the skyline, Fives alternated between a tired slump and vivid alertness, clearly fighting fatigue and pain. Occasionally, the clone would glance back at Cody, who hobbled behind him, held up between Rex and a clone from Piell’s company.

 _Commander Cody took a blaster shot to the leg,_ Ahsoka noted; she cringed, feeling an echo of the pain that radiated from the man. 

_We’re in rough shape, all of us._

She prayed to the Force that Master Plo was faring better. It was a foolish hope, she knew. But right now, she needed it.

Reaching out into the Force, she felt an aura of pure irritation surrounding the rear of the group, centering around the figure that hovered over Rex’s shoulder. 

The source of that irritation: Captain Tarkin. 

Ahsoka felt a stab of sympathy for the two Jedi Masters stuck at the back of the group. Neither of them visibly betrayed any emotion, but Obi-Wan was practically projecting his annoyance and frustration into the Force. Piell, on the other hand, was silent, but appeared just about ready to drop from exhaustion. 

_Tarkin is an arrogant ass, and there’s nothing that will ever change my mind about it,_ Ahsoka thought bitterly. 

Progress was slow, despite their urgency to reach Master Plo’s position. The mission hadn’t been kind to any of them, and, as they continued to push forward, it became abundantly clear that the small break that they’d taken on the landing pad had not done much to help them recover in the long run. 

They encountered their first droid roughly two kilometers from the Citadel. It was a dismembered super battle droid, its body cut apart by a lightsaber. In the darkness of Lola Sayu’s night, the body seemed to melt out of nowhere, sending shivers down Ahsoka’s spine. 

Behind her, Waxer and Boil immediately turned on their helmet lights, brightening the path in front of her. 

She almost wished they hadn’t. 

Lola Sayu’s atmosphere was dark by nature, equating to a gloomy world not unlike those featured in the horror holodramas she used to watch with Anakin. What gave off the most light was the yellow-orange lava that was present almost everywhere. 

Everywhere except the place where they were walking, of course. 

Between the eternal-night, the purplish haze that hung permanently in the air, and the lack of lava pits nearby, their patches were too dark even for Togruta eyes. 

So, when Ahsoka broke out into the graveyard, she had to fight back the fear that threatened to overwhelm her. 

The path in front of her had widened from the narrow ravine to something that resembled a giant trough, one side leading to the edge of what looked like a large plateau. Small pools of lava sat at the base of the steep cliff, casting yellowish light over the area around them. 

Behind her, Ahsoka heard Fives suck in his breath. 

“What…” The clone started. He didn’t finish the sentence. 

Droids littered the ground, their bodies lumped together in piles here and there, as though they were carelessly tossed aside, metal skeletons flickering in the light of the clones’ headlamps. Scorchmarks marred the dark stone at Ahsoka’s feet, leaving chiseled indents where the explosive had come in contact with the ground. Footprints were everywhere, both droid and clone tracks intermingled so thickly that it was almost impossible to decipher the two apart. Severed limbs, their circuitry dangling uselessly, brushed against Ahsoka’s ankles as she stepped forwards. 

“There’s so many…” Ahsoka murmured to herself, scanning the area, horrified. 

Large chunks of the plateau had been blasted away at random points, leaving the formerly-smooth edge of the stone shelf a jagged mess of fallen rubble. 

What made matters worse was the smoke that filled the area, intertwining with the pre-existing haze that plagued the planet. 

Ahsoka’s eyes watered from the smoke, and she raised her arm to her nose, picking up the scent of burning flesh. Her left hand found her shoto blade and clutched it tightly to her side, in a desperate attempt for at least some comfort. 

Heart thundering heavily in her chest, Ahsoka’s limbs seemed to move of their own accord, dragging her forwards one step at a time. One by one, the line followed behind her, crossing the threshold and onto the battlefield. 

For what felt like hours, Ahsoka lead them through hell. 

Droids kept jumping out at her from the darkness, seemingly at random, their lifeless faces hanging from ledges or their hands grasping lightly at her legs. Eventually, her nerves got the better of her and she ignited her lightsaber, holding it aloft like a beacon. 

The only thing that they could follow was the thrum of cannon fire and the flashes of explosions that dotted the horizon. Even as they trod onwards, it seemed that Master Plo’s team was somehow moving farther and farther away. 

It didn’t make sense, but what else was she supposed to do but press on?

Behind Boil, Artoo ran into a chunk of metal, beeping and squawking as his entire frame threatened to tip over. The technician hastily threw out his hand to stabilize the overexcited droid. 

The face of a Commando droid sprung out of the darkness right in front of Ahsoka, causing her to gasp audibly and stumble back. Its pearly-white visual sensors were darkened and lifeless, its body riddled with blaster holes.

_Karking hells—_

Swallowing, Ahsoka ducked her head, jumping slightly as an explosion shook the ground. 

The green light of her shoto revealed that the area they’d been walking in had narrowed back into a ravine once more, the upper edges of the rocky layers curving in above their heads. There was no lava in sight, plunging them into darkness. 

Ahsoka gingerly climbed around the fallen droid, glancing behind her to make sure that the rest of the team was still following—they were, although they were rather spread out now. 

They crossed a bare patch of ground, then were met with a rather large pile of stacked super battle droids. Ahsoka crossed first, her feet skidding on slippery metal. As she reached the top, she tested her footing. It was stable. 

Spinning around carefully, she deactivated her shoto and reached out a hand to help the next person make the climb. 

“There’s a ship approaching; everyone turn off your lights!” came a hiss from nearby. The same message was repeated several more times further down the line. 

Almost immediately, the group was plunged into near-complete darkness. The fear that Ahsoka had managed to keep at bay doubled. 

She clung to the sounds of Boil and Waxer behind her, of the slight shuffling of the technician between them. Her heart thudded wildly in her chest, beating an obscenely fast tempo into her skull. The gloved hand that she gripped was a lifeline. 

_I’m at the head of the line. Force, help me._

Everywhere she looked, she could see the ghosts of droids, their pale eyes gleaming—only when she blinked, they were gone. 

_It’s your imagination,_ she told herself, _it’s not real…_

The dream came to her mind—Anakin’s red eyes glaring down at her. 

_No…_

_I just want my Master back, not that monster._

At that moment, Ahsoka felt her shields crack. Sorrow swamped her, filling her senses. She wanted her Master more than anything else in the galaxy. 

_If he were here, things would’ve been alright. I know they would have. Maybe I wouldn’t have been so scared…_

Maybe she had imagined it, but for a moment she could swear that she’d heard laughter—mirthless and terrible. She shook herself.

It was gone _._

A distant roar filled the air, growing louder and louder, complementing the now-familiar rumble of distant blasterfire. 

Sweat pricked on her forehead, and she suppressed a shiver. Anxiety exploded to life in the Force like deadly fireworks, brought on by herself and the clones. 

_Tano, calm yourself, calm…calm…control…keep it together._

A high-pitched whistle filled the air, and someone yelled, “duck!”

The hand Ahsoka had been gripping slackened as its owner threw himself to the ground. Ahsoka blindly fell backwards—whether from fear or her clumsiness she didn’t know. 

She hit metal, _hard_ , and stars briefly encircled her vision. 

The flicker of Separatist running lights filled her vision, accompanied by the roar of large, powerful engines. 

The whistling grew louder, ringing almost painfully. 

Then the night lit up with flames, the heat baking her face and searing her arms. Ahsoka completely lost all sense of direction as her body was thrown airborne without warning. There was shouting, lots of it, and a sharp cry of pain. Ahsoka felt her face connect with metal and her shins slap against rough stone. Something heavy fell on top of her, bulky and unmoving, pinning her to the ground. 

She froze in place, despite the wiring that was digging into her side and the rock that clashed with her shoulder. 

More bright orange flames lit up the skyline, leading back up the way they’d come. 

_A bombardment,_ she thought sluggishly. 

For a moment, Ahsoka lay there and stared into the darkness. Every nerve in her body was screaming for her to move, but it was the one thing she couldn’t do right now. Her arms were pinned, her legs not faring any better. 

Fatigue ate away at her energy, and she took a moment to appreciate that she could just close her eyes and get the same result as having them open. The idea of sleep sounded so good…

A soft, white light exploded into existence on the other side of her eyelids. Groaning, she turned away from the brightness before opening her eyes. 

Obi-Wan’s face, shadowed by the small light in his hand, hovered above what seemed to be a wall of darkness. It took her a moment to realize that whatever was pinning her must have been big—and that her head was resting against the side of the plateau. 

“Ahsoka, are you alright?” Her Grandmaster’s voice sounded muffled to her ears. 

Groggily, she nodded, wincing as her shoulder cried out in protest at the movement. 

“I’m alright, Master.”

“Give us a moment.”

There was a creaking of metal as the weight on top of her vanished. The large mass floated to her right several meters before coming back down to the stone with a soft _crunch_. In the dim lighting, Ahsoka saw the telltale brown paint and the shield generators. 

_A droideka? Just my luck. No wonder I couldn’t move._

Slowly, Ahsoka peeled herself from the stone, wincing as pain arced through her body. A hand rested on her shoulder, helping her to sit up. She looked up to see Obi-Wan’s face above hers. Beside him, Rex held the small hand-held light, aiming its beam downwards. 

“We can’t use headlamps or lightsabers anymore,” her Grandmaster said softly. “The Separatists have this whole zone under surveillance. Piell and I suspected as much, but now it’s apparent after the bomber came through.” 

Rex sighed. Over his shoulder, Ahsoka could see Artoo extracting himself from a pile of B1 battle droids, beeping in distaste as he shook a loose set of cables from the top of his dome. 

“We just took a hit,” the Captain said heavily, eyes bright. “The General was able to pull us out of the way of the blast just in time, but one of Piell’s men got hit. Lucky for us, Cody recognized the running lights on the ship before it got here and hit anyone else. He got pretty banged up though…” Rex’s voice trailed off. 

Obi-Wan frowned. “Our best course of action would be to stop here while we have cover and regroup. We would be best knowing our own status before going any further.”

“I agree, Sir,” Rex stated, his tone betraying his worry. 

Ahsoka nodded. It made sense. 

Darkness slammed into her vision as the light flickered out. Ahsoka had one fleeting feeling as if she were falling into pillows and blankets before strong hands caught her. 

The next thing she knew, Ahsoka was leaning back against a much smoother patch of wall, her neck complaining as her chin grazed her chest. Opening her eyes, she had to blink several times before realizing that it was too dark to see a thing. She pinched her forearm.

_I’m awake… right._

A hand tapped her arm. It was Master Piell. “Padawan Tano, we hope you won’t mind that we borrowed your communicator. Obi-Wan has it with him now.”

Ahsoka shook her head before remembering that it was too dark for anyone to see anything. “No, I don’t mind,” she replied.

“We received a call from Master Plo,” the Lannik Master continued. “He reports that his entire unit is on the run. Separatist reinforcements came through the blockade and have completely cut them off.”

Sucking in a breath, Ahsoka felt dread crawl its way into her stomach. “So there’s no way for us to get to him?”

“That’s what he said,” Piell replied, his voice flat. “Rex, Waxer, and Obi-Wan are scouting right now.” 

Piell’s wrist bleeped and Ahsoka’s eyes snapped to the faint red flicker of a wrist comm. “It’s Waxer’s,” the Jedi Master mouthed before answering. 

_Ah._

_“—in Master Piell, do you read?”_ Obi-Wan’s voice cut through the darkness. His voice was almost unbearably loud, drowning out the distant echoes of blasterfire. 

A thunderous explosion shook the ground, and Ahsoka jerked out of surprise, palms flat to the dark shale. The night air lit up as an explosion sent roiling flames into the sky, briefly illuminating her surroundings. 

Squinting through the fallout of airborne dust and sand, Ahsoka saw that she and Master Piell were deep inside a niche adjacent to the ravine that they’d been following. To her right and through the mass of fallen droids blocking the entrance, she saw the distant flicker of white armor hidden across from them. 

_“There’s no easy way out of the ravine other than to backtrack half a klick west—the way we came. It’s difficult, and the upper level is crawling with droids.”_

“How far are you from our position?” Piell asked, his tone serious.

_“It’s hard to tell, I can’t see—ah. Rex tells me we’re about a klick northeast. There’s a way out of the ravine—it’s difficult though. Once you leave the ravine, there’s minimal cover.”_

Waxer’s voice floated over the comms. _“Sir, there’s a droid scout approaching. I suggest we retreat.”_

 _“I agree with you on that.”_ Obi-Wan’s voice sounded tense over the static-ridden channel. _“Master Piell, I suggest that you climb up from the open area we encountered earlier. There’s a way to the surface in that direction which shouldn’t put too much strain on the men. I don’t see any droids in your area, but I’d suggest minimal lighting.”_

“Alright, I’ll scramble the team,” Piell replied.

_“We have eyes on Master Plo’s team; it appears that they’ve lost more ground. I propose that my team move in. It appears that the blockade has the droids’ reinforcements temporarily cut off, but there’s no guarantee how long that’ll last. With how far they’re spread out, I might be able to sneak through their lines undetected.”_

“Understood. May the Force be with you.”

_“And with you. Kenobi out.”_

Ahsoka leaned her head against the stone, taking a deep breath before hauling herself to her feet, a precautionary hand tracing the stone wall behind her for support. Her body immediately rebelled and she nearly fell on her first step. With each passing moment, however, strength flowed back into her limbs, and she managed to climb back out into the semi-open area.

A dim light flicked on off to her left—Boil. In front of the clone, an outline of an ARC trooper flitted in and out of view, clearly helping someone stand. Movement to her right revealed Master Piell getting to his feet, a clone technician hobbling beside him. 

As another low-level light activated, Ahsoka watched as her team slowly came to life, melting out of the shadows and milling into the gorge. Out of habit, they formed a semi-circle. 

Piell spoke up first, automatically taking command. 

“We have a problem,” the Lannik Master began without preamble. “Since this morning, Master Plo’s team has been consistently losing ground, moving farther and farther away from the Citadel—and from us. About a half-hour ago, they were two klicks east of our position. Obi-Wan reported, however, that the distance has since increased.”

Tarkin, his angular face half-lit in the light from Boil’s helmet, looked like he was about to speak, but Piell continued—whether intentionally or not, it was unclear. 

“Obi-Wan’s team climbed out of the ravine roughly half a klick back the way we came. He indicated that while the high ground offers little cover, it is a quicker, more direct route. Obi-Wan is moving to infiltrate the droids’ defenses and make a run for Master Plo’s line. According to his findings, the droids are cut off from reinforcements for the time being and have spread themselves out across the terrain.”

There was a moment of silence. Though she’d been listening to the Master’s words, Ahsoka’s eyes remained glued to the sour-faced Captain off to her right. The man was just itching to offer his opinion, she could feel it. She could also feel her lip beginning to curl in distaste. 

She’d hardly even spoken with the man, and he was already one of her least-favorite people in the galaxy. 

“I propose that we follow Obi-Wan and, at least get eyes on our target. Our next move will be largely based on what we’re up against at that time. The optimal situation would be to pin the droid forces between our two parties and catch them in a crossfire.” Piell’s voice was firm.

“Master Piell, might I offer an alternate solution?” Ahsoka resisted the urge to roll her eyes. _That_ was exactly what she expected from Tarkin. 

“I suggest that we meet up with the other party and attack as a unit. There is strength in numbers. As one force, we could overwhelm the droids from behind.”

As the Captain began, the team began to move, turning back the way they’d come. 

“Obi-Wan believes that now is the best time to rendezvous with Master Plo. I trust his judgement on this one.” Piell’s tone indicated finality.

Ahsoka couldn’t see Tarkin’s face, but she would’ve bet both of her lightsabers that the man wasn’t enjoying the fact that he’d essentially been shut down in front of everyone. 

||

The trip was much more pleasant with lights, even dim ones. 

Tilting her head back, Ahsoka stared straight upwards. In the pitch-blackness about her, the sky seemed to be a thin band of deep purple. In any other situation, she might’ve taken a moment to appreciate how beautiful it looked. 

_Maybe in a different life, I could look at those clouds and call it beautiful._

_Now all I can think about when I see this is Mortis._

As they traversed the familiar territory, Ahsoka’s mind wandered back to the dreams she’d had over the past few days. 

Dreams? Or _visions_? 

A chill ran down her spine as she remembered the howling winds, the crunch of the bulkhead as it careened into the ground, her complete and utter uselessness… 

What did it all mean? 

Ahsoka shook herself, searching for something— _anything_ —to take her mind away from the pain and grief that surrounded her memories of the last week. 

Her gaze landed on the back of Tarkin’s head.

_No._

||

For Ahsoka, time seemed to both slow down and speed up. One moment, she was agonizing over the last horrific moments on Mortis, the next, she was crouched behind the still form of a Commando as she watched Master Piell lead the troops one-by-one up a perilous climb to the surface. 

When Obi-Wan had mentioned it was their easiest route to the top, he hadn’t been kidding; everywhere else seemed to be sheer cliffs. The bad news was that the way up required a treacherous combination of climbing droids, scaling loose rubble, and a sizable jump to reach the upper ledge. 

First, Piell made the trip, then Boil. Tarkin climbed next, leaping from point to point with little to no comment, the remaining men from Master Piell’s company helping one another behind them. Cody was next. Alone, the Clone Commander made it admirably far, but soon was hampered by his bad leg. Echo was at his side the whole time, guiding him with his helmet lights set on their dimmest setting, occasionally turning back to help Fives as the ARC trooper labored to climb one handed. 

Taking up the rear, Ahsoka scaled the path, feeling her bones ache as she made the final leap. 

The first thing that she noticed about the surface was that it was scorching—far warmer than the cool air of the lowland from which they’d just come. The second thing: the wind. As if it had a life of its own, the hot, dry wind of Lola Sayu bit into her skin and burned her eyes. 

Despite the two drawbacks, Ahsoka much preferred the surface. A low, yellow light filled the air, cast from the frequent pools of lava. On top of that, the darkness wasn’t so apparent. 

It reminded Ahsoka a little bit of a Coruscant twilight. 

Placing one foot before the other, Ahsoka followed the procession across the hellish landscape, taking note of each flash of laser fire in the distance and the thrumming retort of a heavy machine-gun. 

_Hold on, Master Plo, we’re on our way!_

* * *

“Sir.”

Waxer’s voice was quiet, barely discernible over the roar of the distant bombardment. Stooped behind an outcropping of dark rock, Obi-Wan looked up at Rex and Waxer, who were crouched across from him.

Though he couldn’t exactly see either of their faces, he could feel their exhaustion and apprehension in the Force.

In any case, he knew exactly what Waxer was going to say even before the clone said it aloud.

“The priority is to rendezvous with Master Piell as soon as possible,” Obi-Wan said softly. “Ahsoka and Master Piell are following us; we plan to have them approach the droid forces when they get to the narrowest part of the ravine. They will approach on one side, while we, along with Plo’s forces, approach from the other.”

With slight hesitation, the clones nodded in agreement. Their emotions in the Force, however, spoke otherwise. 

“I know it’s been a long mission,” he continued. “But soon, Masters Windu and Mundi will break through the blockade, and a ship will come to rescue us. We must be prepared for when that happens.”

Rex and Waxer glanced at each other in a sort of silent communication before Rex spoke up. “We’re just worried about the others, Sir,” he admitted, and though Obi-Wan couldn’t see his face at all, he knew the Captain was speaking the truth.

Letting out a breath, Obi-Wan nodded. “Me too,” he replied, “but we must keep moving.”

They continued trudging through the ravine, narrowly avoiding detection. 

As they rounded a bend, the commlink Obi-Wan borrowed from Ahsoka began to vibrate insistently—he knelt down in the shadow of a small cliff before he accepted the transmission. Waxer and Rex stood next to him, on guard for any surprise attacks but apprehensive all the same. 

“Kenobi,” he whispered into the comm.

 _“Master Kenobi.”_ Master Windu’s voice was quieter than normal, as though he’d realized that Obi-Wan was somewhere where he must not be detected. The Force shuddered as his voice filtered out of the commlink, and Obi-Wan instinctively felt his heart sink to his stomach.

Something was wrong.

“Master Windu, what’s happening out there?” he asked.

A sigh crackled through the comm. _“The blockade surrounding Lola Sayu is extremely strong. Count Dooku and General Grievous have completely surrounded the system without a single hole in their defense.”_

Obi-Wan closed his eyes.

 _“Reinforcements have arrived, but there’s simply no guarantee, Obi-Wan,”_ Master Windu continued, his voice quieter than before. _“Master Plo has sent me his coordinates, but since the area is too hot, you must progress further east once you rendezvous with his team.”_

Obi-Wan nodded, then remembered that Master Windu couldn’t actually see him. “Yes, Master,” he replied. “Let us know if anything changes. Kenobi out.”

Slamming the button on the commlink, Obi-Wan looked up at Rex and Waxer.

“We have no choice but to move forward,” he said softly, and the clones nodded in response.

||

Through a thick fog of blaster fire and smoke, Obi-Wan saw the brilliant blue light of Master Plo’s lightsaber.

Master Plo stood in the center of a large rock, his lightsaber moving so quickly that Obi-Wan could barely see it in a single moment. From where he stood, it didn’t appear like there were many men surrounding him.

“Oh, no,” he whispered. Plo’s team must have taken heavy losses since the beginning of the mission, and now…

Now Plo needed their help. Obi-Wan turned towards Rex and Waxer and tilted his head towards Plo’s team. The two clones nodded in response.

The three of them rushed forward, Obi-Wan immediately drawing and igniting his lightsaber as blaster bolts began to whistle through the air. Obi-Wan moved forward and deflected, guarding Rex and Waxer from the onslaught of droid forces as they shot back at the nearest droids, DC-17s at the ready.

At the sight of a second Jedi, about half of the droids attacking Plo changed course, but Obi-Wan was ready. He ran towards Master Plo, deflecting bolts and cutting through the droids that came in his way.

He was exhausted—his limbs heavy, yet the idea of sleep seemed so far away, unrealistic in the heat of battle. It would have to wait until after reinforcements arrived, and there was no telling how long that would take.

Obi-Wan shook himself out of his thoughts as he heard Plo call out his name.

“Master Obi-Wan!”

Now that Obi-Wan was closer, he could see that the Kel Dor’s movements were slightly sluggish, though in the Force, Master Plo showed no sign of slowing down.

“It’s good to see you, Master,” Obi-Wan said, looking around carefully. Commander Wolffe stood a few feet away from Plo, the Force revealing a deep concentration as he fired bolt after bolt to the droids approaching them. The rest of the men stood nearby, exhausted but refusing to back down.

The droids’ numbers appeared to be dwindling at least for the moment, though Obi-Wan suspected that more would arrive soon, with General Grievous and possibly even Count Dooku in tow.

He had to be prepared for the possibility.

“Ahsoka and Master Piell are on the way with the rest of the men,” Obi-Wan said, quickly pressing a few buttons on Ahsoka’s commlink. “I’ll update Master Windu.”

Plo nodded tiredly. A part of Obi-Wan almost wanted to ask if Plo needed a break, or at least a moment to breathe. The Kel Dor Master had essentially been fighting off wave after wave of droids since early on in the mission.

As though he sensed Obi-Wan’s concern, Master Plo turned towards him. “I can keep going for now, at least until the ship arrives to pick us up,” he said.

Obi-Wan nodded. “It shouldn’t be too long,” he replied, though he was sure that Plo knew that it still might be a while until they would be able to leave Lola Sayu.

Plo hummed just as the sound of a ship echoed through the caverns around them. Obi-Wan looked up, seeing a Separatist lander speeding towards them accompanied by a single bomber. Rex, standing a few feet behind him, let out a stream of curses.

Obi-Wan felt quite inclined to agree, but he said nothing, watching as a large fleet of super battle droids spilled from the belly of the ship, followed by a line of B1s. 

“That’s…not good,” he said as the droids quickly assembled themselves and rushed towards them, the bomber sweeping low to the ground behind them.

Obi-Wan looked around, quickly counting about a dozen clones around him, including Rex and Waxer. There weren’t many of them, but they’d have to do. 

“It’s a larger number than we expected, but I believe we can still follow the plan. The Separatists must be hard-pressed to get their reinforcements through,” Plo remarked, looking back towards the direction where Obi-Wan had arrived.

Obi-Wan nodded in response. “Let’s draw them out to the narrow point of the ravine, then. We must hurry.”

Quickly, they assembled into a group and rushed back down the path towards the more treacherous areas leading to the ravine. Master Plo led the group while Obi-Wan stayed in the back, turned to face the droids directly.

He glanced back at Rex, who stood next to him, twin DC-17s aimed towards the droids approaching them. “We must maintain contact with Master Piell; he’s going to be our eyes and ears. For this to work, it’s going to be a tight fit back here.” 

Rex nodded. “Waxer is speaking to them now, General,” he replied.

As he finished speaking, the air itself seemed to erupt with deadly blasterfire.

Obi-Wan let out a deep breath and ignited his lightsaber.

* * *

The air was full of the sound of blaster fire as Ahsoka, Master Piell, Boil, and Echo got into position behind the low-bearing rocks and rubble that lined the ravine. Blazing, blue rods of light could be seen below as bursts of gunfire lit up the air around them, indicating the other team’s location. 

And then there were the clankers, ranks of super battle droids marching in unison, flanked by Commandos—the last of the reinforcements the Separatists could offer. 

Above them, the air hummed as the bomber made circles in the sky, its subtle running lights barely visible against the darkened sky. She knew that, beyond the thick cloud cover, a vicious battle raged in outer orbit. In the Force, it was like a distant storm cloud, an impending doom just waiting to fall from the heavens. Ahsoka’s heart felt heavy as she realized that the fight above was all just to extract them from Lola Sayu. 

The Force seemed thick with death all of a sudden. 

_We’re the reason for this death and destruction._

Several meters to her left, Master Piell activated his commlink. “We’re in position. The droids are almost through the choke point.” 

Rex shifted, twin pistols trained on the nearest Commando. Beside him, Boil propped his elbows on a flat rock. 

_“Copy that,”_ Master Plo’s tired voice responded, _“that bomber is going to be challenging.”_

Master Piell raised his hand, glancing down the line of defenders. As final super battle droid passed the choke point, he let his arm fall. Laser fire lit up the air, their position broadcasted for the world to see. 

Exhaustion sapping at her strength, Ahsoka brought the Force into herself, letting it boost her energy. She _had_ to get through this; there was no time to rest now. With a rough shove, she sent the rocks—their cover—tumbling down into the ravine. 

Moments later, a crunch of metal told her that she’d hit her target. 

Droids fell, many of them shooting blindly into the air, unable to pinpoint the location of their hidden attackers. Some caught on and fired up the side of the ravine, causing Tarkin to yelp and dive for cover as he’d leaned over the side in order to get a proper look at what was happening below. 

Flying debris filled the air, momentarily blotting out Ahsoka’s view of the other team. She was about to throw some more rocks down the side of the ravine, when she was distracted by a low rumble that quickly filled the air. 

Suddenly, Master Piell was shouting at her.

“I’ll give you a boost— _go!_ ”

She blinked in surprise before it clicked. 

Four sets of small running lights were careening towards her, the sound of engines roaring in her ears. With a grunt of exertion, she threw herself upwards, the Force propelling her upwards. Just as her feet left the ground, another Force signature wrapped about her own, adding additional power to her jump; Ahsoka shot into the air like a bullet. 

The power of her jump was more than enough as the silhouette of the bomber suddenly seemed to appear out of nowhere—and then passed. 

_No—_

Ahsoka twisted mid-air, the Force screaming. With a hiss, her lightsaber exploded to life, its familiar hum drowned out by the sheer volume of the bomber’s engines. Spinning, she entered a freefall dive, baring her teeth as she lost all sense of direction. 

Well, _almost_ all sense of direction. 

The top running light of the ship flickered below her, a clear target from above. Its droid pilot, blissfully unaware of her presence, was making a dive for her team. 

Ahsoka was so close that she could see the targeting system on the small HUD, visible through the glass of the bubble-like cockpit. Not only was the droid visible, but so was the ground—and it was rapidly approaching. 

“Oh no, you don’t,” she hissed. 

With a rather loud _thud,_ she landed on the nose of the ship, driving her lightsaber through the starboard engine. The droid inside panicked and made a grab for the trigger, but, in a burst of energy, Ahsoka caught the controls with the Force, twisting the ship upwards. 

_None of my friends are dying because of you._

Leaping across the ship, she sank her green blade into the droid’s midsection, shattering the glass around the cockpit and setting fire to the controls. 

Smoke billowed from the ruined engine as the ship plummeted downwards. Together, Ahsoka and her lifeless-droid companion were headed for a point across the ravine from Master Piell, past Obi-Wan and Master Plo, and tracing a path towards a rather large rockpile. 

_Rockpile…_ Squinting down, Ahsoka extinguished her lightsaber and threw herself backwards, her breath loud in her ears as she fell through the air. Above her, the bomber bleached smoke, travelling several more meters before exploding against the rockpile. 

Ahsoka rolled on impact with the ground and had barely enough time to recover and take two hurried steps forward before the explosion knocked her off her feet. Groaning, she rubbed her head, rising. 

_Second time today._ If her head hadn’t been hurting earlier, it definitely was now. 

||

Upon reaching Master Plo’s team, Ahsoka realized that it was over. 

The lighting was better than her experience back up the ravine, partly because they were now closer to the surface.

What was left of the droid forces were smoking heaps of scrap metal, and Master Piell was already repelling down the side of the ravine to join them, the clones right behind him, thrown into sharp relief by the clones’ headlights. 

Rex and Echo approached Ahsoka, leaving Masters Obi-Wan and Plo, who were talking nearby. The remainder of the combined clone forces milled about in small groups—each team now painfully small. 

“Commander, are you alright?” Rex asked as he reached her. 

The Captain’s helmet was covered in dust, burn marks staining his armor in multiple places. Otherwise, he seemed fine. Much to Ahsoka’s relief, Echo seemed healthy as well. Both, however, were staring at her in concern. Self-consciously, Ahsoka lifted a hand to her face. She felt dried blood crusting against her fingers.

_Oh._

Suddenly the concerned looks, the occasional side-glances that some of Plo’s men were giving her, and the way that Obi-Wan was hurrying towards her made sense. She felt light on her feet, as though she were floating. Her stomach was dancing in circles, as though she were still in freefall. 

_I just need to sit down…_

Backing up a few paces, Ahsoka leaned back against a rock. The freefalling sensation in her stomach still lingered, but no longer having to stand did help. 

“Ahsoka.” 

She looked up wearily. 

_When did Obi-Wan get so close?_ She wondered. 

The Jedi Master’s brow furrowed, and she momentarily felt his presence brushing up against hers. She scanned him lightly, picking up traces of exhaustion in the Force. There was worry as well, but when Obi-Wan next spoke, he mentioned nothing of it. 

He sat beside her, resting himself farther down the rock. “Master Plo tells me that his team can move out soon. We both agree that staying in the same spot would be unwise.” 

She appreciated the fact that he wasn’t hovering over her, demanding verbal confirmation on her status. With a pang, Ahsoka noted that that had been something that had—“irritated” wasn’t exactly the right word for it— _bothered_ her about Anakin. The realization hit her in the gut; she’d never have that again, or see Anakin’s insistence on making sure that everything was alright. 

Ahsoka nodded. “How is he?” she asked softly. The Kel Dor Master was slowly making his way to them, stopping to check on his men as he walked. 

“Master Plo? He’s fine,” Obi-Wan replied in a hushed tone. “His team, however, took heavy losses.”

Scanning the area around her, Ahsoka counted less than ten men. Master Plo’s team had started with a number closer to twenty, a large number that had made their initial trip to the Citadel on the Separatist ship quite cramped. 

As if he could sense her shock, Obi-Wan pointed toward another landmass some twenty feet away. “Kix has the injured back there. Apparently it’s what’s kept them trapped in the ravine all this time. The wounded couldn’t make the climb...” The Jedi Master’s voice trailed off. 

“And he wouldn’t leave them behind,” Ahsoka said softly. The Kel Dor Master, even from where she stood, was clearly exhausted. 

Gratitude rushed through her. Even when it would’ve been so easy to escape, Master Plo had kept going for those injured men, defending their lives with his own. Like Anakin and Obi-Wan, he valued the lives of the men around him. It wasn’t that she’d doubted it before…but rather was _reminded_ of it. 

Obi-Wan slowly got to his feet as Plo approached.

“Koh-to-yah, Ahsoka.” The Kel Dor Master seemed relieved. “It’s good to see you.”

Respectfully, she bowed her head. “And you, Master.” 

Master Piell soon joined them, eyes bright. He practically bounced up to Ahsoka, Obi-Wan, and Plo, smiling. 

“Good to see you alive, my friend,” Master Plo rumbled. “We feared the worst when your ship was taken.” 

Ahsoka, taking a moment to let her focus slide, watched Echo practically carry Cody into the temporary camp; Rex ran up to the clone commander and helped him down to the ground. Boil and Artoo arrived soon after, side-by-side, Tarkin marching behind them flanked by two of Piell’s men, the exhausted technician following them. . 

_We made it._ Leaning back against her rock, Ahsoka briefly closed her eyes, exhaling as the stress, anxiety, and nervousness rolled off her into the Force. She hurt everywhere and would kill to take a nap right about now. 

The Force moved and she let her eyes open. In front of her, Obi-Wan looked at her, one eyebrow raised. Not knowing how to respond, she shrugged. He looked away and her eyes fell to his belt—or rather the second lightsaber clipped there. A shiver ran down her spine. 

_Anakin’s lightsaber._

She wasn’t surprised. When she’d given it to Artoo for backup at the start of the mission, a part of her had known her Grandmaster would end up with it. She had no regrets in bringing it with her on the mission. It was almost as though a piece of Anakin Skywalker had accompanied them to the Citadel. 

||

They spent almost a half hour camped in the ravine, constantly watching the skies for any sign of movement. Twice, Mace had called, reporting that the Republic so far hadn’t been successful. Ahsoka had taken the time to check up on the men, finally hauling herself to her feet and making the trip around the rockpile to Kix’s position. 

The Clone medic, upon seeing her bloodied face, had immediately started fussing over her. He and the injured Clones—now including a very grumpy looking Cody—had stashed themselves in a small hollow which was completely invisible from both above and from the front. Strategically, it was perfect. 

From her team, Boil, Cody, _both_ surviving men from Master Piell’s company, and Rex had suffered some sort of injury, ranging from Rex’s sprained wrist, courtesy of a stray bomber explosion, to Cody’s blaster-scorched leg. 

While in the medic hideout, Ahsoka learned that Master Plo’s team had lost four men. 

One from the 104th had gotten caught in the blast when droids had destroyed the shuttle, while a 501st trooper had picked up a stray laser shot from a Commando as he made for cover from the airborne shrapnel. 

Later, as the group had lost more ground, another 104th member as well as a soldier from the 212th had gotten shot while in the open area of the ravine. Remembering the droid graveyard, Ahsoka suppressed the urge to shiver. 

The final casualty had been recent, only a few klicks back. Kix had sighed while telling her, commenting that the trooper in question, another 104th member, had bodyblocked a shot which would have otherwise incapasitated Master Plo. 

Ahsoka had listened quietly while allowing the medic to apply a bacta patch to the open cut on her scalp. Apparently, it was nearly an inch long and was still seeping blood. Ahsoka internally winced at the idea.

Mace’s third call came soon enough, urging them to move position and head two klicks southeast of their position, towards an island in the middle of a lava lake. 

_“This is the closest we can get to your position,”_ the Jedi Master had stated flatly, _“and we don’t have a very large window of time. You must be there when we break through. You have about half a standard hour before we get there.”_

At those words, what had once been a rather peaceful camp erupted into pure chaos. Kix was hissing curses while double and triple-checking that his equipment was stowed accordingly. Obi-Wan called for Boil and several of the unharmed clones to help with the injured, while Plo intently scanned the holomap which Mace had sent. Master Piell still sat back on a rock, having been trapped in a conversation with the slimy Captain. 

As quickly as they’d received the comm, the large group was ready to move. Ahsoka and Obi-Wan assuming the back position, Master Piell lead the way, Plo taking up position with the injured at the middle of the pack. 

Getting out of the ravine seemed to go by in a blur for Ahsoka as she watched Artoo roll along in front of her, the astromech occasionally squawking at the ground. Before she knew it, they’d scaled the side at a shallow point, continuing their trek at ground level. 

It was numbing, being so tired. Ahsoka doubted that she’d gotten a decent amount of rest since Mortis. In fact, she was positive of that fact. And from the looks of it, her Grandmaster wasn’t faring any better. 

And so the party dragged on in silence, moving as fast as their tired limbs could carry them towards the rendezvous point. 

||

They’d just reached the shore of the lava lake when their mission took yet another nasty turn. The air was filled with smoke, a low haze which had plagued the low points of the ravine. Visibility was poor and, despite being in close proximity to the lava, the lighting was miserable. 

The droid ship came in with a roar, Rex’s shout only giving them mere seconds of warning. 

Collectively, both the Jedi and clones hit the ground as gunfire exploded around them. Muttering Anakin’s typical array of colorful Huttese curses, Ahsoka rolled onto her back, eyes searching the sky for the enemy ship. 

Beside her, Obi-Wan was already on his feet, tipping Artoo back upright. 

“Seperatist reinforcements! Find cover, now!” Master Plo’s shout broke the silence. 

The problem: there wasn’t any. 

“Make for the island!” yelled Tarkin.

“Go, go!” 

Plo grabbed one of Cody’s arms, Echo gripping the Commander’s other arm as they roughly hauled the injured man between them. Piell, in front now, ignited his lightsaber; Ahsoka followed suit. 

Running forwards, Ahsoka almost bit the dirt as her feet connected with a figure on the ground. At the last second, she twisted to the side, coming down rather ungracefully as her hand skidded on something wet as she struggled to stay off the ground. 

She had a fleeting glimpse of the dead technician before Obi-Wan dragged her away, grasping her arm in a vice-like grip. 

Ahsoka, however, couldn’t unsee the prone figure in gray, eyes blank and glazed over, his brains smeared across the rough stone like red putty. It was then that she realized that, more than ever, the people who were still fleeing on their feet—injured or not—were the lucky ones. 

That enemy ship could’ve hit any of them. 

Obi-Wan’s eyes, illuminated in the pulsing light of his blade, looked back at her filled with urgency. The unspoken words were loud and clear. 

_“You can’t save them.”_

The roar of engines vibrated through the air, and Obi-Wan abruptly let go of her arm, swiping upwards with his lightsaber, deflecting several bolts as blaster fire peppered the ground. Ahsoka ignited her own blade and swiped another green laser out of the sky. 

The droid ship was a rather small lander—a scaled back droid transport. Even as Ahsoka watched, the ship swept low over her head, hovering over the white-armored retreating backs in front of her. A set of bay doors opened and several black shapes flew out, metal blades glittering wickedly in the dim lighting. 

Instantly, the Force was screaming around her. Blindly, Ahsoka lashed out to her left and felt her arm caught by a metallic hand. She yelped. 

“Commandos,” spat Rex, flicking on his headlamp, “I can’t see a kriffing thing.”

Obi-Wan suddenly disappeared from Ahsoka’s view, his lightsaber spinning away. Ahsoka dodged to the side as the barrel of a blaster—used like a club—barely missed her face. Gritting her teeth, she drew the Force within herself and flipped the Commando over her head, rotating her lightsaber to her right and cutting into its arms. Two quick shots sounded and the same droid sparked against the stone, illuminated by the lights of Rex’s helmet. 

Nodding her thanks to the Captain, Ahsoka turned back to face southeast. Her heart stopped. 

The team was in complete disarray, lights flashing in every direction as the Clones battled their camouflaged opponents. Obi-Wan had appeared farther up the line, helping Master Plo defend the injured. 

Already two clones were on the ground, unidentifiable in the half-light. 

If Ahsoka thought that things couldn’t get any worse, she would be in for a surprise, for, just then, the Force blared out a warning. The air itself seemed to electrify. In front of her, Ahsoka saw Obi-Wan and Plo stiffen, both turning in the same direction. 

Ahsoka followed their gaze and felt her stomach drop. In all the chaos, she hadn’t seen two additional lightsabers come alive, blazing from the darkness several meters to the right. 

It was only when the choked, dying gasps of a man filled her ears, that she realized they were in even deeper trouble than before. 

A ragged chuckle filled the air, sending shivers down Ahsoka’s spine. 

Piell cut through a Commando who’d attempted to sneak up on him. “General Grievous.” The Master’s voice betrayed a sense of slight despair. 

In the light of a clone headlamp, Ahsoka saw the still, dead body of Captain Tarkin, still grasped by the neck, a green and blue lightsaber ran clean through his chest. Despite how much she had despised the Captain, Ahsoka felt rage form a pit in her stomach. 

_No—_

_We’ve failed; this mission has failed._

As the last Commando fell to Cody’s blaster, the four Jedi stepped forwards. 

Humming filled the air and another Seperatist drop-ship landed behind Grievous. 

“Surrender,” hissed the cyborg, eyes shining with sickening mirth, “there is no escape.”

Beside her, Obi-Wan assumed the opening stance of Soresu with a flourish. He looked dead on his feet, but his presence felt strong and unwavering in the Force. 

“Ahsoka, Master Plo, get on that island. Master Piell and I have some unfinished business with the General.”

Ahsoka realized that her Grandmaster had made the right call. Though both he and Piell showed signs of fatigue, Plo practically radiated exhaustion. As for herself, Ahsoka doubted she’d be able to keep up with Grievous for long—especially if their last meeting the previous year was an indication of anything. 

New waves of super battle droids were marching towards Ahsoka, their weapons trained on the retreating backs of her teammates. 

_I can’t let them kill anyone else. Nobody is allowed to die!_

Ahsoka deflected as much of the enemy fire as she could as they retreated, her eyes still glued to the fight going on next to her. 

So far, Obi-Wan and Piell seemed to be holding out well. Grievous had already gone up to four sabers, fighting each Jedi with two. 

Behind her, Ahsoka could hear the hiss of grappling cables being launched. 

“They’re crossing now,” came Master Plo’s voice. The Jedi slid next to her, assuming a defensive stance. 

The clones had fired grapples across the expanse of lava, making it so that they could climb across using the metallic rope for support. As they made their way across, each person was temporarily vulnerable to enemy fire.

For a while, Ahsoka trained her focus on defense, backing up until she could completely cover one of the crossing points while Master Plo took the other. 

Her focus, however, soon went back to the fight as things took a turn for the worse. 

As Grievous came in with lightsabers whirling above his head, Obi-Wan struck downwards with his lightsaber, locking all four of the cyborg’s blades. Even from a distance, the strain was evident on his face. While the cyborg’s defense was open, Piell took the opportunity to strike. 

Just as the Lannik Master’s strike landed, however, Grievous’s leg shot out, claws gripping Piell’s upper body. Twisting, the cyborg broke free of his lock with Obi-Wan and swung Piell viciously to the side, smashing the Jedi Master into Obi-Wan. 

Pain spiked through the Force like a lightning bolt as both Masters went flying.

Obi-Wan hit the ground and rolled behind Grievous, while Piell barreled into the line of approaching SBDs, his lightsaber a glittering cylinder on the ground far away from his reach. 

“No!” Ahsoka lurched forwards. She needed to help them—

But Master Plo was faster. “Guard the men,” he ordered.

The Force surging, the Kel Dor Master shot forwards, closing the gap between himself and the Seperatist reinforcements, sinking his blade up to its hilt in a battle droid about to fire at Piell. As Ahsoka watched, the Lannik Master groaned, Force-shoving a few close SBDs before summoning his lightsaber. 

As Obi-Wan engaged Grievous, Ahsoka heard shouts from the opposite shore. Chancing a look, she saw that Cody had almost fallen into the lava. Even with Rex’s help, the clone was rapidly losing steam.

Feeling slightly torn, Ahsoka sheathed her lightsabers and swung herself onto the other wire. Cody and Echo were last, but they were stuck roughly three-quarters of the way down; she could tell they were going to need help. 

“Just leave me!” Cody was yelling at Echo. “Get onshore, I’m not going to make it!” 

The ARC trooper was just as animated in the Force, anger prickling about his presence. “Not a chance, vod! There’s _no way_ I’m leaving you behind!”

Cody cried out as Echo tried to move him further along the wire, the two clones a tangle of limbs. Ahsoka, half-way to the island, felt it in the Force before it happened. 

Echo’s hand, bearing both his and Cody’s weight, slipped. 

Surprise, horror, and terror flashed through the Force as the two clones fell towards the boiling lake of lava.

The yells from the opposing shoreline changed from despair to pure shock. 

Ahsoka’s heartbeat thundered in her ears, her teeth gritted together and eyes squeezed shut. Her arms shook as she reached outwards, her entire body hanging upside-down below the wire, montrals burning from the heat of the lava directly below. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and she let out a cry as her body rebelled against her command. 

It hurt, force it hurt. 

Before her, the two clones hovered, less than a foot from the red tongues of flame, both facing downwards into the roiling, deadly lake. 

The Force surged around Ahsoka as she pulled the clones upwards, away from the lava. Both the ARC trooper and Commander were ten feet from shore, then eight, then five… 

Ahsoka’s energy was leaving her, as if a drain plug had been pulled and all the energy she had left was seeping out, away from reach. The Force was harder to use, a familiar heavy exhaustion creeping up her limbs and into her mind. 

_Have to…_

_This has to work…_

Her energy was spent and she knew it, her stamina buckling under the weight of the two clone officers.

With the remaining vestiges of her strength, Ahsoka shoved the two clones into the air, throwing them roughly towards the shoreline as if she were tossing battle droids against a wall. The two men cried out as they hit the ground, pain exploding through the Force—presumably from Cody. 

Ahsoka swung herself back up onto the wire, wrapping her elbows around the strong cable, her head tucked in towards her chest. She panted, sweat pouring down her face. Pain radiated from her montrals and she wouldn’t be surprised if they were burned. 

The world spun before her, black dots swimming across her vision. 

_I pushed it a bit too much that time,_ Ahsoka thought, _but it was worth it._

She struggled to breathe, her arms limp while the wire cut deep into her skin. 

“Commander!” The clones were calling to her, their voices seeming oddly muted. 

Ahsoka let her head dip slightly, pain flaring in her head as she moved. Rex and Waxer were standing at the attachment point of the grappling wire, beckoning to her, but for some reason she could barely see them. It was as though they were going in and out of focus every time she blinked. 

Painfully, she placed one hand in front of the other, her legs following through slowly. 

One moment, it seemed, Ahsoka was hanging off of the wire, and then the next, she was being gently lowered to the ground by steady hands. Blinking, she looked up. 

She saw red eyes and pale skin, unnaturally white teeth glinting down as the Son gleefully smiled down at her. 

Ahsoka balked, wildly swinging her arms in an attempt to break the man’s grip on her. Another pair of hands steadied her. She froze in confusion. The hands that were gripping her arms weren’t pale and skeletal, but rather the armored, gloved hands of a clone. 

“Calm down, Commander.” Fives’ voice met her ears. 

_“We’re coming down for a pickup, now.”_ Mace’s voice fizzled through Ahsoka’s commlink. _“Standby for extraction.”_

The Force twisted, darkness digging into Ahsoka’s shields. She groaned, putting her face in her hands. Rex had been holding her up her body, but at the touch of the Dark Side, her legs failed her. 

Images were blurring together, the orange glow of the nearby lava growing flames dancing across her vision. She heard echoes of a yell, of her own voice screaming.

_‘Master!’_

_‘Master, no!’_

The Son’s deeper tones overlapped, speaking as she did, repeating the same echoing phrase. 

Pain stabbed into her mind, driving a wedge through her shields until they shattered. She felt cold, darkness drilling into her brain. It was like a small, dark part of her mind that had never been cleansed since Mortis had suddenly expanded, enveloping her senses and mind. 

She was drowning, screaming at the top of her lungs for it to stop. One by one, her fears were being pulled upon, drawn out and fed upon. First, she saw Obi-Wan cut down by laser fire, Master Plo sliced in two by Grievous where he stood, and then Master Piell shot down from where he stood by a super battle droid. The lava was growing, twisting, and reaching out to her, their fiery hands beckoning her to accept their embrace… 

Nothing made sense; it was too much at once. Ahsoka retreated inwards, curling her psyche into a small ball and hiding where it was safe. 

_The ship was plummeting through the air, trees and greenery rushing upwards at the cockpit at a terrifying speed. Alarms howled in the cockpit as the ship careened towards its doom, its tall, dark-haired pilot fighting to keep it aloft._

_Around them, chunks of bulkhead were breaking off, the ship rocking violently as, one-by-one, the vessel’s wings, engines, and outer hull were stripped away._

_Ahsoka held her breath, eyes taking in the form of her Master._

_‘This is it, then,’ she heard him say softly._

_With that, Anakin Skywalker leaned back from the controls, his head resting back against the back of the pilot’s seat._

_‘I’m sorry…’_

_Anakin drew something from his belt and looked at it, cupping it in his prosthetic hand before pressing it to his heart. He sighed, eyes closing._

_The world erupted into flames._

Ahsoka gasped, sitting bolt-upright and groaning as her vision went fuzzy with the movement. 

“Careful, Commander,” Kix was next to her, scanning her with a medical instrument. 

The ground felt too smooth, like metal…

_Ship? I’m on a ship._

Ahsoka looked around, wide-eyed. She was in a LAAT, leaned against the wall, breathing hard. The ground was shrinking below her, lava fields shrinking pinpricks as the heavy cloud cover blotted out everything.

The viewports sealed for space travel with a _hiss_. 

Slowly regaining her senses, Ahsoka took in her surroundings numbly. 

Cody, Boil, and four other clones surrounded her, all injured. Artoo stood on her left next to Fives, who was curled against the wall. In front of her, Rex, Wolffe, Waxer, and Echo stood, clustered in a group, conversing with one another in hushed tones. 

_The Force feels all…wrong._

Master Plo was standing with one arm gripping the standing handrail, the other tightly wrapped about his midsection. Obi-Wan sat on the ground below the Kel Dor Master, propped against a supply crate, several deep lightsaber cuts marring his legs. He wasn’t looking in Ahsoka’s direction, but instead had his eyes fixed on a figure across the ship from him. Feeling a deep sense of foreboding, Ahsoka followed his gaze. 

The Force seemed to whisper to her, striking a chord deep within Ahsoka’s heart. All at once, her breathing was too shallow—or was the air too thin? She desperately wanted it to all be one cruel joke. 

_How can the Force be so cruel?_

Before her, the prone figure of Master Piell rested, his head propped on a supply pack, Kix stooped over him, frantically working to stop the bleeding of a wound that Ahsoka could not see. Blood pooled about the Jedi Master’s torso.

Turbulence shook the ship, knocking Ahsoka’s head against the wall. She winced, closing her eyes. Her brain wasn’t working right. Somehow she couldn’t move, as though her entire body were made of rubber. She didn’t have control.

“Padawan Tano, are you alright?” Master Plo’s voice broke into her thoughts. 

Her gaze rose to him. Obi-Wan’s eyes shifted away from Master Piell’s body as he stared at Ahsoka with slightly-glazed eyes. 

In the Force, Master Piell was slipping away, moving farther and farther towards an inescapable void…and somehow Ahsoka felt herself being dragged with him.

She tried to form words, to say _something_. 

Kix sat back, radiating a muted sadness. The Clone medic looked up at Master Plo and then to Obi-Wan. 

“I’m sorry Sirs, but he’s gone.” 

Ahsoka’s vision swam, a distant laugh echoing in her ears. She could feel Obi-Wan reaching out to her in the Force through their bond, but his presence was knocked aside by a much more powerful, dark force. Bursting forth from within Ahsoka’s own mind, a slippery, dark creature entered the room, blotting out the light in the Force until she was practically choking on the thick, suffocating presence. 

‘I don’t understand, this shouldn’t have killed him. Lannik biology—different—heart and—weren’t hit.’

Kix’s voice was now an echo, rapidly fading into nothingness. 

The blurred shapes of Master Plo and Obi-Wan were moving, but Ahsoka couldn’t fathom where or how. 

_“You thought you could stop me.”_ The Son was inside Ahsoka’s mind, his blood-red eyes petrifying as they bored into her thoughts, scraping through her memories. 

_“You cannot hide.”_

Voices, meaningless and incoherent, came from all directions in a cacophony that left Ahsoka disoriented. 

_‘You abandoned me—failed me!’_

_‘Anakin, why?’_

_‘Why did you leave—’_

_‘You won’t understand what I have to do—’_

_‘—on broke the laws of time—’_

_‘Where were you when I needed you?’_

_“Ahsoka!”_

_“Ahsoka, can you hear me?”_

_‘Foolish child, you thought you were free?’_

“It’s like something is sucking the life out of him—”

“—n’t explain it.”

_‘Ahsoka, why did you leave?’_

_“Ahsoka!” ..._ _"Ahsoka."_

"Ahsoka?"

A new feeling rushed through Ahsoka—a savage glee. Power roared through her veins, electrifying every cell in her body till it hurt. Everything was white, blindingly so.

_‘Enough, brother—’_

_‘I will have my revenge.’_

_‘I hate you!’_

_‘—my brother, Anakin.’_

Flames filled Ahsoka’s vision for a second time, drowning out her senses as intense heat washed over her skin. 

_Trees were on fire, their bark peeling off in sections as the flames licked it hungrily. The sky was filled with smoke, dark and thick as it billowed upwards. Wreckage was everywhere, chunks of metal jutting out of the ruined soil._

_Beside her, a large chunk of bulkhead stuck out of the ground, flames still eating away at the surrounding wildlife. Ash had already fallen—inches thick—to the ground, shifting slightly in the breeze._

_Ahsoka sank to her knees, barely noticing the fact that she could move. The shimmering form of the Son stood over her, his form blotting out the sun._

_“You, child, have come quite in handy. Now I thank you. You made my choice easy.”_

_“What have you done to me?” Ahsoka felt pain lance through her head. She bit back a cry; it was like having a drill taken to her skull._

_“Oh? And here I thought you would be grateful,” sneered the Son._

_“What for?” The pain had grown so intense that Ahsoka was forced down onto all fours, a hand clutching her forehead, eyes squeezed shut. It was as though a piece of her mind was being forcibly ripped free, tearing her shields to shreds._

_The area surrounding her dissolved, but the Son’s whisper remained, ominously ringing in her ears._

_‘You’ll see soon enough, foolish child…’_

The presence was gone.

Ahsoka coughed, her head burning. In front of her, blurred by oncoming tears, Obi-Wan’s face swam into view. She gulped, feeling moisture running down her cheeks. 

Her Grandmaster’s presence flooded into her mind, their bond like an open floodgate as she felt his emotions clearly for the first time since… 

A mental image of the Son came to her mind and Ahsoka rushed forwards, wrapping her arms around her Grandmaster, burying her face in his shoulder. He whispered comforting words to her, rubbing circles into her shoulderblades. 

She didn’t care that she was making a scene, or the fact that it wasn’t exactly professional. Sobbing quietly into Obi-Wan’s tunic, Ahsoka succumbed to the overwhelming fatigue that washed over her body. 

_It was over._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keeping track of the technicians was the biggest pain. Let the record show that it was a struggle, but we finally got it! _So_ many Clones to keep track of!  
> ~LazarusII


End file.
